


put me to work

by Milzilla



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gun Violence, M/M, badly researched gun shot wounds, because jesse manes is a dick, descriptions of boning, discussions of child abuse, mind manipulation (of the villain)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milzilla/pseuds/Milzilla
Summary: michael meets his new boss' son. turns out, they've met before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on a [tumblr prompt](http://michalienguerin.tumblr.com/post/183994701868/au-where-michael-and-alex-meet-at-a-fancy-party)
> 
> it's been a hot second since i've written fanfic, but i'm a trash bag for this show so

The slick-back of his curls still feels uncomfortable but Michael’s getting used to wearing a suit. It’s a far cry from his ripped jeans, grease-stained shirt, and the cowboy hat, but he’s not picking up shifts at the junkyard anymore. He’s selling himself to the corporate world today and even if he’s a little nervous about being on a proper company payroll, having a desk, and a real schedule to conform to, that’s far outweighed by the promise of a steady income.

Jesse Manes’ company is well known for pushing the boundaries when it comes to private security and while it isn’t the field that Michael had imagined when he’d been studying at NMU, he’s more than happy to put his engineering degree towards developing this company’s tech. After all, they contract out to military, and it always pays to stay ahead of the game.

He’s standing at the front desk of the overbearing Manes building and waiting to be led further in for an introduction when he turns and sees _him_  walk into the building. He’s wearing a different suit; light blue with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His white shirt is done up to the top button but he somehow makes even  _that_ look indecent. He’s wearing a pair of round sunglasses and his hair is still damp, making it fall across his forehead.

Michael can’t help the visceral sense memory that overtakes him.

_“What’d you say your name was again?” Michael asks between rough, desperate kisses._

_The music and chatter of the party seems miles away, as though they’re underwater and anything outside this bathroom is inconsequential._

_“Alex,” the brunette replies, equally brown eyes fixed to Michael’s face as they grab at each other’s clothes._

_"I'm supposed to be networking," he says into Michael's mouth. "But my dad's an arse." He gasps when Michael finally gets his shirt untucked, hands riding up underneath to touch heated palm to smooth skin._

_Michael knows he should be doing the same; making friends amongst these people he'll be calling coworkers or acquaintances next week. He can't find it in himself to care, not when this guy's arse had looked that good in this ridiculous fuchsia two-piece suit and his front had provided an even better view._

_"We gonna talk about your dad while we fuck?" He asks, rolling his hips up into the other man's, drawing a groan from both of them._

_"Presumptuous of you," is what comes out of Alex’s mouth. Michael pulls back a moment to look him up and down. His hair is unruly and going every which way from Michael's fingers threading and his hands gripping. His jacket's halfway off his shoulders with his white shirt rucked up over his stomach and his pants pushed down over his hips._

_He looks like fucking **sin**  and Michael wants to put his mouth everywhere. So he does, dragging his lips across every available surface of skin until his knees are digging into the tiles of the bathroom floor and he’s taking Alex’s cock in his mouth, groaning around it when there’s a hand tugging at his curls, and Alex is throwing himself back against the wall with a thud. He puts his tongue to work until all that’s coming out of that sarcastic mouth are gasps and stutters._

Michael leans against the nearest object and cocks his head. “You followin’ me, darlin’?”

Alex regards him coolly over his sunglasses. His gaze turns heavy when the recognition hits.

“If you wanted another night,” Michael continues, all sway and intent. “All you had to do was ask.”

Before Alex can reply, an older man walks up behind him and clasps him on the shoulder. Michael immediately recognises him as Jesse Manes; even if he hadn’t had an interview with the man two weeks ago, he’s the face of the company.

“Ah, Alex,” he says, and if his grip on Alex’s shoulder seems a little too tight, Alex doesn’t react. “I see you’ve met our newest recruit. Guerin’s going to do great things in our engineering department.”

Alex gives him a once over, eyes dark and lips parted just slightly. It makes the bottom of Michael’s stomach turn to hot, liquid gold.

“I can tell.”

“Excellent,” Jesse barrels on. “Alex can show you around the place. I think you two will have a lot to talk about.”

“There’s a few things I can show him,” Alex agrees, and the way his lips curl at the edges belay a  _very_  different intent to what Jesse is suggesting.

Jesse extends his hand to Michael, who focuses long enough to shake it. “I’ll see you this afternoon Guerin.”

It's only then, with two Manes men smiling at him, that Michael makes the connection.

For a certified genius, fuck he's a dumbass.

"Why didn't you say you were Alex Manes?" He hisses five minutes later, when Jesse Manes has left Alex in charge of the welcome tour.

"At which point?" Alex asks. He takes Michael's key-card from the security desk and leans in closer than necessary to place it in Michael's hand. "When you were on your knees in the bathroom? Or later, when I was on my knees on your couch?" He reaches up to adjust Michael's tie, fingers only a hair-width away from stroking his jaw. "Or on your bed? Or in the shower?" Then, he's stepping back and moving on with the tour like nothing happened.

Michael doesn't understand how no one's noticed. He feels hot under his shirt, like his curls are about to escape the stronghold that the gel has on it. He's staring at the back of Alex as they walk, gaze following the slight curve of his back, lingering on that arse, dipping down to where his pants end just above the ankle. Michael wants those bare ankles hitched up and hanging over his hips, legs locked around his waist.

He snaps himself out of it. Alex is being professional and Michael is a grown ass man. There's no reason he can't get through this without making a complete idiot if himself.

“You always give tours to the newbies?” He asks, as Alex points out this level's kitchen and staff room.

“No,” is the reply. He's not avoiding long at Michael  _per say_ , but he's looking infrequently enough that it gives Michael pause. He keeps looking around impatiently, like he has somewhere better to be Michael doesn't panic but he knows the last thing he needs is to be at odds with the bosses son.

“You caught me at a good time. My dad must really like you.”

Michael doesn't know what to say to that.

“So, when you said that your dad's a dick…”

Alex turns and fixes him with a look. “Repeat that to anyone else…”

Michael put his hands up. “Consider it our secret.  _Another_  secret.” He doesn't mean for his voice to sound quite so low when he says it but Alex's stare blossoms into something else entirely and that molten feeling is back in Michael's stomach.

“Mm. Here it is.” Alex stops them at an unassuming wooden door. The space for a name plaque is empty. “Your office,” Alex explains, opening the door to let them in.

It's not large; barely enough for the desk and filing cabinet already inside. Michael doesn't mind. He's never had an office before, and he knows he won't be spending all of his time at a desk anyway.

He turns to look back at Alex, who has stepped inside, with a genuine smile.

“Thanks man,” he says, and holds out a hand. “I guess I'll see you round the water cooler.”

The expression on Alex's face gives nothing away as he closes the door behind him and turns the lock. His posture is so relaxed, leaning back against the wood, that Michael wonders if he'd imagined it. He hadn't.

Alex's gaze drags up the entirety of Michael's body before coming to rest on his face. Michael's breath catches.

“Oh.”

He body slams into Michael’s and it should hurt but Michael can’t focus on that because he’s too busy reaching up to cup Alex’s face, too busy remembering to breathe and trying not to swallow his own tongue as Alex backs them up against the desk.

Alex kisses like it’s a challenge, like he can unlock something by the swipe of his tongue, the press of an angle, the bumping of their noses. Michael uses his hands on Alex’s face to move him where he wants him, slowing the speed of the kisses but not the intensity. When his hip hits the computer on the desk, he remembers where they are.

“Mmph. Wait,” he pants, pulling back. “It’s my first day.”

Alex takes a step back, but instead of any of the expressions that Michael expects to see on his face, he looks thoughtful. Determined.

He reaches up and past his jacket, which has already been undone, and starts to unbutton his shirt, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

“Okay.” Michael concedes, as if there had ever really been a doubt. “I should probably break in the desk anyway.”

Later, when Alex is slipping his jacket back on and Michael is lamenting the loss of his slick-backed hair, Alex’s eyes flick over him consideringly.

“We never finished the tour, you know,” he says.

“Mm?”

Alex walks steps up to Michael and reaches to run a hand through his now free curls. His other hand buttons up Michael’s jacket without pause, reminding Michael of exactly what those fingers are capable of.

“Mm,” Alex echoes the sound. “I haven’t shown you  _my_  office yet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'll were so sweet so i wrote some more
> 
> you know what comes next. late nights at the office. takeaway containers strewn everywhere. michael takes off his jacket. alex loosens his tie.

Michael should be concentrating. He _needs_ to be concentrating. He’s only been in this job two weeks now and while the work is interesting and easy enough, it’s the bureaucracy that he’s having trouble adjusting to.  Emails, logging requests, an overwhelming number of phone conversations, having to _physically file paperwork_ at one point, and these _meetings_. God, how he hates meetings. At least when he’s writing an email or being bored to death over the phone he can lean back in his office chair and swear at the ceiling. That sort of thing in a meeting could get him fired.

Today’s is the fifth meeting he’s had this week in regards to a piece of tech the company wants to update and get out on the market as soon as possible. Michael’s already updated the tech. His department gave the green light four days into his employment. They’re waiting on programming or coding or something that Michael has no interest in, but for some reason he has to sit through _every goddamn meeting_ with his immediate boss. It’s excruciating, and the only reason he hasn’t smacked his head on the desk in an attempt to render himself unconscious is because this meeting is a little different.

Alex is sitting in on this meeting.

Michael has no idea why.

He’s leaning back in the chair that’s just next to the presentation screen, one leg thrown over the other casually, twirling a pen in his hand. The suit today is light grey and it looks pristine, though Michael remembers seeing it crumpled on the floor a few hours ago. He shifts in his seat and _that’s_ a mistake because he can feel where he’s still blissfully sore from this morning, and the feeling just makes him want to grab Alex and do the whole thing over again.

Alex turns and catches his eye. He brings the tip of the pen to his mouth, pressing it between his parted lips and exhales.

Michael has to take in a sharp breath of his own, thinking about where those lips had been earlier today.

*

The air's slick with their sweat and heavy with their hot breaths. Michael's hands are pressed onto the desk in front of him, fingers splayed outwards as if searching for purchase. His curls are plastered to his forehead, his pants are round his ankles, and Alex Manes' face is pressed between his arsecheeks.

He's still wearing his shirt, though his jacket had been removed just before he'd been pushed against the desk and a fully-clothed Alex had dropped to his knees, pulling Michael's pants with him.

Alex performs a particularly enthusiastic swipe with his tongue and Michael’s helpless but to arch his entire body back into the sensation. One hand moves from the desk to reach behind, scrabbling until it finds a handful of brown hair to cling to as Alex opens him up with nothing but his tongue and vivacious determination.

Manes’ office is completely different from Michael’s. It's several floors higher, three times as big, and one wall is entirely glass window (tinted, Alex had assured him the first time he'd started unbuttoning his shirt in here). He has a large desk with three monitors, a bookcase (that they've made out against), a couch (that they've fucked on), and a coffee table (which was new, since they'd broken the other one).

“Christ,” Alex whispers, short and sharp. “You're so reactive.” He bites at the soft flesh beside Michael's hole, trails his teeth down his left buttcheek, then revisits the path with his tongue. Michael bucks forward, cock smearing precome across Alex's desk.

“Yeah,” Alex murmurs. “Like that,” Then he's replacing tongue with fingers and opening up Michael like it's the only thing on his calendar that day. It's not: they both have at least one meeting later and Michael really does have work to do (he has no idea what Alex actually does here but it leaves plenty of time to accost Michael in the elevator, kitchen, closet, office supplies cupboard, filing room, or like this morning, into his office).

“You gonna keep talking, Manes?” He manages, even though Alex is three fingers deep and curling them in the most delicious way. “Or, you gonna fuck me on this big desk of yours?”

 Alex chuckles. The sound makes Michael's toes curl with warm pleasure. Making Alex laugh shouldn't feel like more of a victory than the curl of his fingers or the swipe of his tongue but it does. Alex removes his fingers (Michael whimpers at the loss) and stands up, pressing an open kiss to Michael's hip as he goes.

 There's the sound of a belt unbuckling, pants hitting the floor, a wrapper being torn open. Michael waits patiently, feeling exposed and impossibly turned on. Then Alex lines himself up and the next five minutes are a blur. At one point, one of Alex's hands slides up the middle of Michael's back and up to his head to take hold of his curls, while the other hand grips his hip. Michael leans into the touch like a cat while Alex fucks into him shallowly. He’s whispering filthy things into Michael’s ear;  _you feel so fucking good_ and _bet I could have got you off with just my tongue_ and _fuck, I can’t think around you_.

 When Alex finally bottoms out inside him, Michael lets out several stuttered breaths and has to close his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure. It shouldn't be this good, not still. He should've got this out of his system and moved on to productive things like taking advantage of his access to the Manes’ company tech and using it to keep his siblings safe. He wants to. He will. But this is so good, still. There will be finger bruises on his hips later, angry red marks across his shoulders where Alex has bit and sucked at the skin, all hidden underneath his shirt and his suit but still unmistakably _there_. And all he can do right now is cling to the desk as Alex does his very best to break another piece of his office furniture.

 “We should get lunch,” Michael says nonchalantly, afterwards.

 “Mm. Can’t.” Alex presses a quick kiss to his mouth. “I’ve got an overdue deadline.”

 Michael laughs. “I’m surprised you’ve got the time to be fucking me stupid everyday.”

 “I don’t.” Alex shrugs on his jacket. “Not really. I shouldn’t even be-” he shakes his head.

 “What? Fraternising?”

 Alex throws him a look as he adjusts his tie. “Well, yeah. There is that. Though you’re more likely to go down for that than I am.”

 Michael grins, cockfire and sure, and presses his hip against the desk. He watches Alex watch him, gaze following the line of his arms, abdomen, over his hip. “Now, you know I’m happy to go down anytime you ask.”

 “Idiot.” Alex shakes his head. “I mean it. This is -- dangerous. I’ve never been this bad about -- can you _please_ put a shirt on.”

 He obliges, but he’s smirking the whole time he buttons it up, pleased with himself. When he’s done, he steps forward to fix up a jacket button that Alex has missed, then attempts to flatten Alex’s hair into something appropriate.

 “What are you saying?” He asks, as gently as he can.

 Alex bites at his bottom lip. “We need to - cool off. Take a step back.”

 Michael opens his mouth to protest. He’s been a more than willing participant, that’s for sure, but with the exception of that first time at the party (and his apartment), Alex has been the instigator in all of this. Michael has just (gladly, so gladly) been along for the ride. He doesn’t want to antagonise him though. This is the most they’ve talked about  whatever _this_ is in the two weeks since it started

 Instead of voicing any of that, he tilts his head from side to side consideringly. “And what does that look like exactly? Mind blowing sex every second day? Every _third_ day? You just want to torture me.”

 The expression on Alex’s face is exasperated but he hasn’t stepped away yet, so Michael takes that as a win.

 “I’ve never been this stupid about someone before,” Alex murmurs, pressing his hand to Michael’s chest.

 Michael reaches up and threads his fingers through Alex’s hand. “Me either,” he says quietly. Alex looks across at him with those big brown eyes. “I don’t really make a habit of hooking up with my boss’ son. Especially not this -- consistently.”

 Alex rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, but Michael holds them there, chest to chest.

 “I mean it,” he says. “I’m fucking stupid for you. But we’ll cool it down if you want. I can keep my hands to myself if you can.” He drops his hand from Alex’s and takes a step back. “See? Already got some distance. We’re doing great.”

 Alex regards him with an unreadable look, then nods his head. “Good. I need to work-” he gestures to his desk. “So…”

 “Right.” Michael frowns. He hadn’t actually thought that would be the end of it. “I’ll - see you around?” He hopes that his tone conveys how fucking confused he is about the situation. He grabs his jacket and shrugs it on, buttoning it as he moves towards the door.

 “Guerin.”

 He stops with his hand on the door handle, turns to look over his shoulder. He hates himself for it.

 Alex is sitting behind his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard and and gaze moving between the three monitors. He pauses to look over at Michael.

 “Around the water cooler, right?”

 Michael scoffs and leaves.

 *

 “Guerin?” His boss prompts him.

 “Yeah, right.” Michael clears his throat and leans forward. “The specifications are exactly what you wanted. We even managed to get the operating chip smaller than requested.” _We_ meant _him_ but it was too early to be pulling that kind of weight. He had plenty of time to impress the higher ups without drawing unwanted attention on himself. “So I guess we’re just waiting on that patch to be written.”

 “Mm, yeah.” Alex slips the pen into his pocket and sinks further back into his chair. His stupid sunglasses are perched on top of his hair - now perfectly styled and not messed up by Michael’s fingers - and Michael just wants to rip them off his stupid head, or maybe make him wear them while Michael blows him. He’s beyond being picky at this point.

 “That’s actually my fault,” Alex continues, carefully avoiding Michael’s gaze. “It should have been done a week ago. I’ve been - preoccupied. But it’s finished and in testing right now. Should be ready by the end of the day.”

  _Preoccupied_? Michael thinks. That doesn’t seem like Alex, always so singularly focused...

 “Thank god for that,” Michael’s boss says, then winces. “No offence meant, Mr Manes.”

 “Alex, please.”

 “Alex,” he amends. “We just weren’t looking forward to the backlash of missing the final deadline.”

 “Of course,” Alex agrees diplomatically. “It was entirely my fault. Won’t happen again. Now that we have that sorted, is there anything else?”

 “Just the Odyssey project. You said you wanted an engineer to work with?”

 Alex nods. “I was told the mechanics would need to be built in conjunction with the code, and vice versa. I’ll need someone who works fast and isn’t on any other projects.”

 Michael’s boss beams and slaps Michael on the shoulder. Michael winces at what he knows is coming next.

 “You can have Guerin! He finished this up in a matter of days; fixed something we’d been stuck on for weeks. And as of right now, he’s between projects.”

 Alex narrows his eyes. Michael tries to look innocent.

 “Fantastic.”

 “Great! He’s all yours.”

 Five minutes later, the meeting is over and Michael is staring incredulously at Alex across the table.

 “You’re the reason this whole process has taken so long,” Michael accuses him. “You know how much I've had to hear about this thing since I started?”

 “Yes, well.” Alex replies tersely. “Sorry to inconvenience you. Like I said, I've been preoccupied.”

 “I've seen you when you want something done.” Michael stands up and rounds the table slowly. “I find that hard to believe.”

 Alex stands as well, before Michael can reach him. “ Either you're being wilfully obtuse, or you're a dick.”

 That stops him. He thinks about the timeline of events, the meetings and conversations he's had in the last few weeks. He thinks of Alex saying _I don't. Not really._ Pleasure blooms sweetly in his chest. He should feel bad, he really should. But he can't help the slow, hapless grin that breaks across his face.

 Alex visibly wrestles with a smile. “Shut up,” he says. He smacks Michael on the arm. “Seriously.”

 “I'm not doing anything,” he replies, without any effort to change his expression.

 Alex looks at him for another second before he's lunging forward, hands on Michael's face as he kisses him breathless. Michael waits a few seconds before gingerly placing his hands on Alex's waist, pulling him in closer.

 “No. Wait!” Alex pulls back. Michael lets him go. He points an accusatory finger at Michael. “No. Stop it. You can't look at me like that.”

 Michael opens his arms and stares helplessly.

 “I meant it,” Alex continues. “This needs to cool off. And we're going to work together?” He lets out a frustrated breath through his teeth and runs a hand through his hair. “ _Fuck_. Okay.”

 It's probably the most frazzled Michael has seen him. He tries not to be self-satisfied about that as well.

 “We are cooling off.” Alex is still pointing a finger at him. “Meet me in my office. No -” he gets a pained look. “Maybe your office. Oh, god.”

 Michael takes pity on him. “We could try working in here for a while?” he suggests. “Leave the door open?”

 Alex nods feverishly, then slower. “Yeah, okay. I can work with that. I need - my laptop.” He moves towards the door, brushing against Michael as he does so. They both freeze but Alex is quick to keep moving.

 “I'm really looking forward to working with you,” he says in a rush, just as he walks out the door.

 Michael stands in place for exactly one minute and just tries to breathe.

 “Cooling off,” he mutters to himself. “Riiight.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys!! i really didn't mean for this to be a multi-chapter thing but ya'll keep coming back and being so damn nice.
> 
> just fyi, probably a child abuse tw for the next chapter. nothing explicit but i don't want anyone getting surprised by any mentions of it. take care of yourselves.

Sometimes Michael needs to get his hands dirty.

Not like that, though - well, that too. But sometimes he finds himself needing to be elbow deep in a car engine, the sweat and grease overwhelming him so that he can  _ clang _ , tinker, fix without thinking. It’s as close to autopilot as he gets, as quiet as his brain will go without the help of music. Isobel says it’s the human in him. Max just nods sagely but Michael knows he’s got no fucking clue.

But sometimes, when there’s a puzzle that he can’t quite think his way through yet or he’s got something particularly frustrating going on, the need to work with something physical is overwhelming. Metal and plastic, car parts and tools, they can all be moulded and manipulated with his hands (or his mind). He knows how they’ll react, likes the predictability of it. Predictability is not a theme in the rest of his life right now.

He’s spent the better part of three weeks working on the new Super Important project with Alex Manes, and they haven’t touched once. Well, fleeting touches maybe, the occasional supportive pat on the back when one of them has done something particularly impressive, but Alex had asked for this to cool off and Michael has kept his word. 

It’s been harder than he would have liked.

It’s not just that the sex is --  _ was  _ good (and it was,  _ so  _ good) and that he misses it, or that working in proximity with Alex makes him ache in ways he’s never felt before, it’s that spending all this time with Alex means he’s getting to know him. He knows how Alex takes his coffee, how he chews at his bottom lip while he works at code, that he played guitar in highschool and wanted to write music. The information keeps coming whether Michael wants it to or not and he’s left to gather the kind of information you can only find when spending all your time with someone.

One of the nights, later than the rest, Michael had made a joke that had caused Alex to double over with laughter, and Michael had nearly thrown his mug of coffee across the room with his mind. It’s never happened during sex, the loss of control over his powers, and it takes him by so much surprise that he has to excuse himself to go and freak out in his office.

So that’s why he takes his truck to the nearest scrapyard to his apartment. And that’s why, when Alex calls him at two pm on a Saturday, he has to wipe the engine grease off his hands before he answers the phone.

“Manes, it’s Saturday. Can’t this wait til -”

“I need you.” Michael sucks in a breath. “Here. At the office, I mean. I need you at the office.”

“I’m a lil’ busy,” he responds, looking over at his truck. It’s in no shape to be driven anywhere, not until he’s done fixing it up. “I’m down one transport, so unless you want to come to me…”

A long suffering sigh. “Where are you?” Michael doesn’t have to hide the surprise he feels at that. Maybe it  _ is  _ important.

“I’ll text you the address.”

Alex’s car rolls up twenty minutes later and the sounds that she’s making give Michael heart palpitations. Alex gets out of the car, phone in hand, walking with a purpose. He’s in another two piece suit (dark beige today) and Michael can’t believe that he wears those damn things on the weekend as well. He hasn’t even acknowledged Michael’s presence yet. He finishes tapping something out, then finally looks up.

“What the hell are you doing here -” he stops, gaze frozen on Michael.

Michael lets him look. Lets him take in the ripped jeans, the sweat-soaked white t-shirt, the black cowboy hat and the grease stains. He knows what he looks like, spent his formative years cultivating this image in Roswell before moving to the city. Maybe it was cruel to bring Alex out here, but he never promised to play fair.

“I like to moonlight as a mechanic,” Michael answers. He wipes his hand on the rag hanging from his belt then regards Alex with raised eyebrows. “What do you need, Manes?”

Alex makes a noise, not unlike a whine, in the back of his throat.

Ten minutes later, Michael's head is hitting the passenger seat of his truck and Alex is riding him with feverish abandon. They’re both coated with sweat and grease at this point and Michael revels in the sight of it on Alex’s perfectly tailored suit, the finger marks on his jacket where Michael’s hands are gripping tightly, the swipe of it on his warm cheeks.

He looks  _ obscene _ . His hands are on Michael's knees, giving him the purchase to arc his back and bring himself down at an angle. His pants are somewhere on the floor of the scrapyard and his shirt and jacket are rucked down to his shoulders. Michael runs a hand from his abdomen up to his neck, delighting in the hitches of breath it causes.

He's confused and more turned on than he's ever been in his life, which seems to be the norm where Alex is involved.

“ _ God _ ,” Alex whimpers on a particularly good downwards  _ drag _ . He doesn't stop though, just rotates his hips (which makes  _ Michael  _ whimper) and then resumes his rhythm. “I was - being so - good. But you - the shirt - that fuckin  _ hat _ .”

Michael grins/smirks and reaches up to tip the hat forwards. “You objectifying me, Manes?” He teases. “The cowboy lifestyle ain't a joke.” He reaches down and tweaks a nipple. Alex hisses. Michael files that away for later.

“Are you saying -”

“Mhm.” He leans over to put his mouth on the other nipple. “Worked on a ranch til I came here. My brother's a  _ deputy _ . ‘m a bonafide cowboy.”

Alex groans. “ _ Fuck _ . That shouldn't be hot.” He reaches forward to grab Michael's shoulders, pulling himself forward and completely changing the angle, then pushes their mouths together. Michael’s hands grip his hips again, just holding on while Alex continues to set the pace. They pant into each other’s mouths, too wound up to kiss properly, until Alex presses his face into Michael’s neck and starts to beg  _ please, touch me, please _ . Michael is powerless except to obey, wrapping one hand around Alex’s cock between them and getting him off with quick, targeted pulls and the twist of his wrist. When Alex is boneless and satisfied against him, Michael grabs his hips and chases his own release, delighting in the soft whines that each thrust pulls from the man above him.

“I really do need you to come into the office,” Alex murmurs into his shoulder, a few minutes later when they’ve caught their breath and the sweat on their bodies is starting to cool.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, without lifting his head. “You'll drive?”

“Mm.” Alex nods against his skin. Neither of them moves to get up. It’s a few minutes before they begin to extricate themselves.

*

They work until it gets dark. The project is interesting and Michael enjoys the work but he enjoys working with Alex more. They’ve fallen into a rhythm now, a balanced push and pull that has Michael doing stupid things like ordering take out and 7pm on a Saturday so that they can keep working, so he can keep watching Alex.

They eventually migrate to working on the couch in Alex’s office. Michael tries not to think about what else they’ve done on his couch, where he’s had his hands and his mouth and his  _ cock _ \- it’s much, much later when he hears the soft sounds of snoring. He looks up from his laptop.

Alex has fallen asleep.

He reaches out to brush the hair from the other man’s eyes, smiling fondly at the peaceful expression on Alex’s face. He freezes. Pulls his hand away like it’s been burnt.

_ What the fuck _ .

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Fucking ( _ good _ fucking) is one thing but this? This is something else entirely and it’s  _ not  _ what he’s here for. He’s not here to make jokes and eat takeout and grin across the room at Alex while something warm and bright leaves him unable to breathe properly.

The takeout containers on the table start to shake. Michael thinks about running for his office again, or the bathroom. He’s barely moved an inch when Alex stirs.

“Guerin?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Yeah, Manes. ‘m not going anywhere.” Michael answers, heart in his throat. Alex’s face blossoms into a smile so sweet that he feels almost cruel adding: “You’re my ride, remember?”

Fuzzy warmth starts to sharpen into consciousness on Alex’s face. “Oh.” He moves to get up.

Michael stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, lowering him back onto the couch. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll crash on the staffroom couch.”

Alex reaches up and puts his hand on top of Michael’s. “Stay.”

Michael sucks in a breath. He thinks he feels his hand shake where it’s touching Alex’s. Alex doesn’t react, having already slipped back into sleep. 

He sleeps in the staffroom.

*

In the morning, Michael changes into the spare clothes he keeps in his office (a shirt and pants, nothing fancy but better than the grease-stained clothes of yesterday) and makes them coffee.

When he makes it up to Alex's office, the man in question is leaning back against his desk, rubbing a tired hand over his face.  He’s still in the suit he was wearing yesterday, only he hasn’t put the jacket back on yet and his shirt is untucked. His hair is sticking up every which way and his face is still soft with sleep. It makes Michael want to do something stupid like wrap his arms around him and press a kiss to his temple.

He offers Alex a mug instead.

“Bless you.”

Their fingers brush as he takes the mug. Alex looks away. Michael doesn't.

“I'm sorry I kept you here on a Saturday night,” Alex says, looking down. “It's just that this project is really important. It's the first thing my dad's let me take the reins on and I can't disappoint him.”

“Don't worry about it. You couldn't keep me anywhere I didn't want to be,” Michael jokes. It feels like the truth though. He hopes Alex doesn't hear the rawness of the statement.

He's not that lucky. Alex raises his head slowly and just  _ looks _ at him. He tries not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Guerin, about yesterday-”

“It's fine.” Michael knows he's not talking about the work or the late night. “Just consider it a hiccup in the otherwise normal proceedings.”

Alex blinks at him. He places his mug on the desk beside him and rises to his feet. He reaches forward and presses his fingers along Michael's collarbone, eventually coming to grip his collar gently.

“What if I don't want it to be a hiccup?”

Michael takes a deep breath. He places his own mug on the desk as well. They are so close; Alex smells like sleep and day old cologne and office coffee beans. His face is soft and open, even though his brow is furrowed in thought or determination.

“Alex…” he breathes slowly, hands coming up to rest on Alex's waist. “You don’t want --”

“Kiss me.”

He closes his eyes, tries to wrap his mind around what’s happening. There’s no math to be done here, no mechanic to be fixed, no physical problem he can dive into. It’s not a question of wanting; he  _ wants _ , more than he’s wanted almost anything. It’s not a question of taking; that’s what he’s done so far, taking and indulging. It’s the shift in tone, the way that their connection has softened and blurred at the edges. Everything is so much more complicated now. Alex is the other end of an equation he hadn’t known he was struggling to complete and Michael doesn’t think he could break away, even if he wanted to.

Opening his eyes and leaning forward, Michael pauses a hair's width away from his lips. Alex keens, soft and desperate. He reaches up and presses a thumb to Alex’s bottom lip, gaze searching his face for permission, reassurance, the slightest hint that this isn’t what he wants.

Alex looks back at him. He doesn’t blink. So Michael removes his thumb and replaces it with his lips.

It’s the softest kiss they’ve ever shared. Alex’s hands are pressed so gently to his chest that Michael thinks he might break. His heart is swelling in his chest and he thinks if he tried hard enough he could levitate this whole damn room with his mind.

They kiss like that for a while, soft and unhurried. The usual level of desperation had been put aside for now, replaced with a tender forehead touch and gentle hands on cheeks, shoulders, hips.

They're still standing like that, wrapped up in one another, when the door opens.

Surprise and fear grip Michael. It's a Sunday; no one else should be here. He can't think of a single person who would  _ want _ to be here on a Sunday, except maybe…

“Dad?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! hope everyone's engaging in self care after the absolute devastation that was episode 12!!
> 
> please remember that there's some discussion of abuse in this chapter. other than that, hope ya'll enjoy it (:

Michael closes his eyes and exhales, waiting to be fired harder than he’s ever been in his life. He’s not sure what grounds Jesse Manes will fire him under but he imagines that making out with the boss’ son is high on the list of motivations for a swift removal.

 “Alex.”

And there’s something not quite right about Jesse’s tone. It’s not disappointed or exasperated; it’s angry, _disgusted_. Michael’s eyes fly open and he looks immediately to Alex, which is how he realises he’s missed something.

The look on Alex’s face as he stares at his father is all too familiar. It’s _fear,_ the indecision between _fight_ or _flight_ , it’s running and hiding and being burned with a cigarette lighter at twelve years old. It’s a look he never wants to see on the faces of others, especially not on Alex. He’s long ago dealt with his own demons, a combination of actually talking to Max and Isobel about it and a ton of therapy, but he knows he’ll never forget the feeling that’s written all over Alex’s face.

His hand curls into a fist at his side. Some of the stationary on Alex’s desk starts to rattle. No one seems to notice.

“Dad.” Alex sounds small, _looks_ small, and if Michael hadn’t already been halfway to a murderous rage…

“How dare you.” Jesse seethes with a quiet, terrifying anger. “Under _my_ company.”

Alex shakes his head, stops. “Dad, it’s not -” he looks at Michael, just a quick glance, then back at his father. “This has _nothing_ to do with you or the company.”

Jesse isn’t listening. He’s stepping towards Alex, all hard lines and tension and hatred. “This stops now.”

“Dad -- _please_ ,” Alex says. It’s so quiet and so broken that Michael nearly explodes the nearby monitors. Alex’s plea doesn’t have any effect though, if the trajectory of Jesse Manes’ swing is any indication.

Michael doesn’t realise that he’s stepped in between the two men until the fist hits him square in the jaw. He takes the blow, stepping backwards into Alex but he keeps his balance just enough that they don’t both go toppling to the floor. He doesn’t react. He knows it’s important not to react, knows it from experience. Instead, he straightens up, making himself as tall as possible. At his full height, he is less than inch taller than Jesse but it’s enough. He glowers down at the man and without flinching, says:

“There are cameras all throughout these offices, Mr Manes. Your own tech. You and I both know that there’s nowhere you could send that footage that either Alex or I wouldn’t find it. I suggest you return to your office and cool down, sir. Before I have to do something we’ll all regret.”

For a second, Jesse looks like he might argue. There’s a dangerous spark in his eyes, his jaw is clenched and the veins in his arms look like they might burst under the strain of keeping still. Then without a word, he turns around leaves the room.

Michael waits a few beats to make sure that he isn’t coming back for a second round. Then finally, he turns to check on Alex behind him. Alex is looking at him with those wide, brown eyes. He’s frozen in shock.

“You…” he says, reaching up to press his fists into Michael’s chest. “You just -- he’s gonna be so mad.”

“Yeah, and he might fire me tomorrow.” Michael shrugs one shoulder with a kind of casualness he doesn’t feel. “I don’t care. He would’ve hurt you.”

“He _has_ hurt you,” he amends, to show Alex that he understands.

Alex makes a small noise of disbelief and leans forward to press his forehead to Michael’s chest. Michael thinks that maybe no one has ever stood up to Alex’s father before. At least, not to protect Alex.

He reaches up and takes Alex’s face in his hands, pulling him back gently so that he can look into those big brown eyes.

“Hey, come home with me,” he says. Then, given very recent enlightening contexts, he tries again. “Please, Alex. Let me take you home.”

“Yeah.” Alex breathes out shakily. He seems to regain a little of himself though, cause the corner of his mouth crooks up in a smile, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I’m not having sex with you, Guerin.”

Michael huffs out a laugh. “Of course not.”

*

Michael’s truck is still at the scrapyard so he drives Alex’s car to his apartment. He gently ribs Alex about the rattle coming from underneath the hood, promises to fix it next weekend, offers to let him watch the process. It draws a smile from Alex, a quiet chuckle, so Michael considers it a success.

It’s barely eleven am when he lets them into the apartment, a small one bedroom thing in the average part of town. He imagines that Alex has a penthouse or something ridiculous, realises he’s never asked.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, and gestures to the couch. “Drink?”

Alex throws him a look. “It’s not even noon.”

“More coffee then,” Michael interprets, and disappears into the kitchen. While the coffee brews, he creates a makeshift ice pack from a bag of frozen peas and presses it to his jaw. If Max were here, the thing would be healed up in a matter of seconds but he’s back in Roswell, upholding the law and being sad about girls that left town years ago.

His jaw _hurts_. It was a decent punch and tomorrow he’s going to have an ugly, purple bruise where Jesse Manes’ knuckles had connected with his face. He doesn’t care, not really. All he can think about is the fact that it had been meant for Alex. Jesse had meant to mark Alex with this bruise, had more than likely done it a hundred times before. He would have taken that exact number of hits if it meant that Alex never had to again.

He finishes the coffee and returns to the living room, handing Alex his cup before planting himself on the couch beside him. He hisses as he shifts the ice pack over his jaw, which seems to break Alex out of whatever shock he’s in. He reaches up and presses his own hand to the ice pack, holding it in place.

“It’s fine,” Michael assures him.

“It's not,” Alex counters. “You didn't have to do that.”

Michael just smiles softly at him. “Yeah, I did.”

Alex looks away, shaking his head. He's frowning, and his lips are pursed in a way that mean he's working up to something. Michael looks down at the floor and waits.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He means it.

Whatever Michael expects him to say, it’s not:

“Are you like -- a mutant or something?”

His head whips up so fast he feels nauseous for a second. “ _What_?”

Alex goes red in his cheeks. “I don’t know! Science experiment? _Wizard_?”

“Manes, pretty sure _I’m_ the one that got clocked in the face,” Michael says but there’s a growing sense of dread threatening to overcome him.

“ _Guerin_.” Alex shoots him a pointed look. At any other time, he would’ve stirred in response, tried to kiss that expression off his face. That look does things to him that no expression had any right doing. “Do you seriously think I haven’t noticed that things _move_ when you’re around? Things rattle and levitate -- you really thought I had no idea?”

Michael’s first instinct is flight. He’d never fight Alex so his only choice is to run away. He’d thought he was done with running away, thought he was safe here, that he could be content and maybe even thrive. God, he’s going to have to tell Max and Isobel, before he breaks off all contact with them so they can’t be linked to him. He’s going to need --

“Hey.” Alex’s voice and hand on his arm pull him back to the present. He hadn’t even realised that he’d moved to stand up, dropping the ice pack to the floor in the process, but Alex’s fingers around his wrist are grounding him here. “It’s okay. I’m not going to -- hey, c’mon.” He pulls gently until Michael is sitting on the couch again, stunned into silence. “Jesus, Guerin. If I was going to tell someone about it, I would have by now.”

Michael presses a hand to his face. It’s been a long morning and this is a lot to take in. He sucks in a deep breath. Exhales.

“Alien,” he says.

Alex blinks but, to his credit, doesn’t look or pull away. “What?”

“Not a mutant,” Michael continues, because why the hell not? He’s already so stupid about this man that he’s known for less than two months that this might as well happen. “Not a wizard. An alien.”

Alex’s lips twitch. “You’re saying you’re an alien who chose to live in Roswell, New Mexico?”

Michael gives him one of those pointed looks he’s always dishing out.

“Ah.” Alex’s eyes go a little wider but he’s still there, fingers still tight around Michael’s wrist like _Michael’s_ the one that’s going to run away. “Shit. _Fuck_ , you’re not kidding. That’s -- _really_?”

He nods.

Alex finally lets go of his wrist and Michael lets his hands fall into his lap. Alex presses his palms together near his face, fingers resting on his lips as he thinks. Michael waits, takes a gulp of coffee, picks the ice pack up off the floor and puts it on the coffee table.

“Okay,” Alex says finally. He folds his hands down so that they’re pointing at Michael. “I have questions.”

“I bet you do.”

“How old are you, really?” Michael raises his eyebrows, which prompts Alex to grin and continue. “Well the Roswell crash was in the 40s right? But you don’t look a day over twenty five. I’m just wondering if we’re in some kind of May-December romance.

Michael tries not to get hung up on the _romance_ part of the statement, lest it render him even more defenseless than he already is against Alex. It’s so _Alex_ to skip over the hundreds of first questions Michael has always imagined someone would ask ( _are there more of you, do you come in peace, where are you from, are you dangerous_ ) and to instead ease the tension with this kind of question.

And that’s how Michael finds himself telling Alex everything; well, almost everything. He keeps things vague when it comes to Max and Isobel because they’re not his secret to tell, not without permission, and he’s still going to be overly cautious when it comes to protecting them. He tells Alex everything else though; hatching from the pods, being mute in the group home, the foster homes he went through, going back to Roswell and finding his family again, learning his powers, feeling like an outcast in high school and then finally starting to fit in at NMU, coming to the city and finding work that would keep him employed and also help him develop ways to keep his siblings safe.

Alex listens without judgement in his expression, the entire time. It's not even that he's schooling his expression into careful neutrality or keeping everything on lock-down; his face is open and _fascinated_. He watches Michael the whole time, gaze roaming over his face, dropping to his hands when they're involved in the telling of the story, especially when he talks about his telekinesis.

Michael doesn't know what to do with the attention. He's never told anyone any of this. He hadn't even been there to help explain the situation to Liz Ortecho when Max had stupidly, selfishly saved her life from a stray bullet. Michael's not angry about that anymore, he likes Liz and he thinks that she's good for Max, but he’d been livid at the time. Max and Isobel had told her everything and he'd only been a part of the consequent conversations over the phone and when he went back home to visit.

So, he's never had the the Alien Chat with someone before.

When he's finished and they're mostly caught up to the present, Michael lets out a heavy breath and leans backwards into the couch.

“Wow,” Alex says. “And the others -- that’s Max and Isobel, right?”

“What?” He’s too shocked to try and hide the fear that comes with that question. How is Alex _so good_ at that?

He shrugs one shoulder, looking a little sheepish. “They’re your family. And honestly, Guerin, they’re the only people from Roswell that you really talk about. It just makes sense.”

Michael presses the heels of his hands to his face and groans, like he’d forgotten that Alex was the smartest person he knows. “You can’t tell anyone. I’m serious. I can take whatever comes next but Maz and Isobel -- the most important thing to me is that they’re safe. That’s why I --”

“Took this job,” Alex finishes for him with a nod. “That was my next question. You want to use the tech to protect them?”

“Yes,” Michael says. “But also to know what you’re making for the air-force and the army. If I know what we might be up against…”

“You can defend against it.”

Michael looks over at him. He keeps doing that, finishing his sentences and completing thoughts that he can’t articulate or hasn’t realised he’s trying to articulate yet. It should disturb him but it makes him feel _understood_.

“I meant it,” Alex continues. “I’m not going to say anything. I wasn’t even going to ask you about it until today.”

Michael opens his mouth to ask _why_ but thinks better of it. He can guess why. Because he stood up to Alex’s father, because he knows Alex’s secret now. He clears his throat.

“I told you my tragic backstory,” he says. “Now you tell me yours.”

Alex regards him warily, but nods.

“Your dad. How bad was it?”

Alex visibly shudders and Michael wants to burn Jesse Manes to the ground, job and jail and alien stuff be damned. Alex takes so long to answer that Michael starts to think he won’t at all, finds himself okay with that.

“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” he says finally. His voice is strained and his hands are tense where they sit on this knees. “He hasn’t hit me in a long time. Today would have -- would have been the first time in years.”

Michael sucks in a breath, feels cold in the pit of his stomach. “Because of me. Because he walked in on us.”

“No.” Alex shakes his head, reaches out to take one of Michael’s hands in his own. “He’s never been okay with me being gay. I guess if he didn’t see it, he could pretend it wasn’t happening. This would have happened eventually. These past few years, it’s just been verbal, just threats. I think he knew I could fight back now that I’m not a kid.”

“ _Coward_.” Michael spits the word, tightens his fingers in Alex’s. “You were a _kid_ and he --”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Alex interrupts him, voice firm. “He has his hand in enough parts of my life. I don’t want him to have anything to do with this.”

Michael rubs his free hand over his face, winces when he remembers the pain of his jaw. “What _do_ you want?”

Alex’s gaze moves from Michael to the hallway that leads to his bedroom then back again. He doesn’t have to speak; Michael knows that look, so he’s surprised when Alex does anyway.

“I want you to take me to bed.”

Michael puts on a self-deprecating grin. “Thought you weren’t going to sleep with me, Manes.”

Alex doesn’t laugh. He just stares at Michael’s face, eyes occasionally flickering to his lips.

“I lied,” he says. He doesn’t look nervous. He looks stubborn and brave and like everything Michael thought he could never have. “I want this. I want _you_.”

Michael leans across the couch and kisses him. He can’t not. He wants Alex, wants him for more than just hot-as-hell fucking, has wanted it for weeks now if he’s being honest with himself. He wants this Alex with his honest, open face and the way he opens completely to Michael’s mouth, the way his hands reach up and slide into his curls.

They stumble towards his bedroom, trying to take off their shoes as they go, and it’s probably the clumsiest they’ve ever been together. Their teeth clack and they bump heads, their hands run into one another as they grab at each other, and Alex actually trips into the wall at one point. It’s messy and their laughing and Michael has never felt happiness like this.

Alex seems content to let him lead them and it isn’t the first time but it seems more important now. It feels like like _care_ and _trust_ and he wants to handle it gently, wants to handle Alex gently. So he does.

He strips Alex slowly, pressing his mouth to each newly exposed piece of skin, until he has Alex lying back against his pillows in a quivering mess. He opens him up with methodical tenderness, slow but not teasing, until Alex is pushing back against his fingers and whimpering desperately.

Michael pulls back to roll on a condom and position himself. Alex moves to turn over but Michael stops him with a hand on his knee. Shakes his head.

“No. Like this.”

He pulls one of Alex’s legs up and over his hip. Alex gets the idea and helps position himself. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted with his quiet panting. He’s so beautiful that Michael has to lean forward and kiss him deeply before he can do anything else.

He presses in slowly, as gentle as everything else he’s done so far, and he’s stroking up and down Alex’s hip as he does, comfort and pleasure both.

Michael sets the pace and commits to it. He has to lean over and kiss the surprised (maybe even a little irritated) expression off Alex’s face.

It isn’t long before Alex is grabbing at Michael's shoulders, then his hips, trying to urge him to move faster. He wraps his legs around Michael's hips in the way that he _knows_ makes Michael crazy, legs bowed slightly at the knees to open him up and let Michael close, but calves pressed tight against his hip bones as if to keep him there.

“C’mon, just fuck me,” he says breathlessly. “You can -- faster than that. Please -- need it.”

Still, Michael doesn't relent.

Alex thinks he needs this hard and fast. His head is thrashing around like he can't bare to be still, can't not be in perpetual motion lest he reveal more of himself in the stillness. But Michael is done with hiding. They've bared their souls to one another with words today, shared the most secret and inner parts of themselves, and he can't stand for there to be anymore masks between them.

He presses himself down between Alex’s thighs, his arms bracketing either side of the other man’s head. He intertwines the fingers of one hand with Alex's, holding that hand above them on the bed. It gives him leverage and control but there isn’t an atom in his body that wouldn’t bend to Alex’s will the second they were asked to.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

Alex swallows thickly but turns his head. He meets Michael's eyes with an expression of equal intensity. Reaching up with one hand he cups Michael's face, holding that gaze even as Michael begins to move above and inside him. Each slow drag out is followed by a deliberate thrust back inside. It would be so easy to bury himself inside Alex and just _fuck_ until they can’t tell where they begin and end but the unrushed, burning gravity of their bodies is so fucking good and this is what he wants, what they need. To be laid open and raw, to have nowhere to hide but inside one another.

He keeps Alex there with their intertwined hands and his other hand on Alex’s face, cradling it gently. Michael keeps him there with his eyes as well, not breaking the eye contact as he fucks into him steadily. Alex only finally looks away to throw his head back and close his eyes, his whines tangling together as he opens his mouth and doesn’t stop.

_please guerin c’mon please fuck i can’t believe this is so i’ve never felt like this_

Michael drops a line of wet kisses up his jaw and then tucks his face into the side of Alex’s neck, sucking what is sure to be a dark bruise tomorrow.

“Alex,” he pants. “Me too.”

“Michael,” he gasps in return, back arching and cock slipping between their bellies. “Michael _Michael_.”

Alex is contradictorily silent when he comes apart under Michael. He’s so lost in the moment that all he can do is wordlessly arch up and come between them, untouched and undone, with a full body shudder. He pulls Michael over the threshold with him, though he comes with a groan pressed into Alex’s skin. They shudder together for a long while, until Alex’s legs fall away from his hips and Michael has the strength to extricate himself and fall onto the bed beside Alex.

It’s a long time before either of them moves, but Alex is the first one to shift. Michael thinks that maybe he’s is going to get up, that this has been too much for him and he needs a little room, but he’s just adjusting. He turns over so that he’s facing Michael on the bed, throwing an arm over his chest and a leg over Michael’s own.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

Michael grins and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. He reaches a hand up to cup the side of Alex’s face.

“Yeah,” he responds.

They fall asleep like that, tangled up in each other and breathing the same air.

When Michael wakes, the spot next to him is empty.

It’s clearly nighttime and his immediate reaction is panic. Alex has had second thoughts about him, about aliens; he’s not sure which would be worse at this point except that both things are fundamentally apart of him and he doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with --

“Turn that brain off for a second,” Alex says, walking back into the room with two beers. He’s wearing his own briefs but one of Michael’s flannel shirts. Michael goes from panicked to relieved to turned on in the span of a few seconds. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the emotional whiplash that Alex inspires in him. He’s not sure he wants to.

He takes the offered bottle from Alex’s hand and then uses his other hand to pull Alex back down onto the bed. Alex goes willingly, which is a thrill in itself, and they kiss softly for a few moments. When they finally pull away, Alex takes a swig of his own drink, then looks at Michael with that determined-thoughtful expression he gets when he’s made a decision about what he wants.

“I’m going to need your help,” he says. “Your particular brand of help.” He looks down at Michael’s hands.

Michael looks down as well, considering. Honestly, the pause is for his pride more than anything else. He knows where he stands, what he’s willing to do for the man sitting here in his shirt.

“Sure,” he says. “Consider my alien powers at your service.”

Alex looks pleased at that, but surprised. “No,” he shakes his head. “Not your powers. I need your brain and your way with machines.”

It’s Michael’s turn to be pleased and startled. He was crazy to think that Alex would stop surprising him. “Okay,” he says. “How can I help?”

Alex steels his expression again into that determined thoughtfulness. “Help me take over my father’s company.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello wonderful people! i'm sorry there hasn't been an update in so long. i got distracted writing some other malex stuff c; not to worry though; i haven't abandoned this baby. i've got plaaaaans.
> 
> if u ever want to check in though, ur welcome to come and hit me up [on tumblr](http://queersirius.tumblr.com/ask)!

Later that night, when Alex has gone home and the apartment is empty again, Michael taps his fingers on the table as the phone rings. He nearly hangs up after the third ring, except a sweet voice answers on the other end.

"Michael! What is it?"

"Can't a guy just call his sister to say hey?" He hopes his voice doesn’t belay the trepidation that he feels.

There's a pause. "Michael, what's wrong?"

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. Even if she can't use her powers over the phone as some kind of alien lie detector, he knows that he's always been an open book to her.

"Okay," he says. "But you have to let me finish before you freak out."

He tells her everything. Well, enough of it at least. She doesn't need to know the particular details of his and Alex's relationship, but he wants her to understand that this isn't just a fling. He doesn't know what it is exactly but it's bigger than that.

Michael thinks he does a pretty good job at explaining the situation, at least until he's finished.

"You did _WHAT_?"

He sighs. “Like I said, it’s really not that big of a -”

“You _told_ someone, Michael. Do you know how pissed Max is going to be?”

“He already knew something was up! I wasn’t gonna let him think I was Magneto-ing around. And hey - Max told _Liz_!”

“Yes, and how long were you angry at him for that?” Isobel’s calm, practical voice scolds him. “Besides, he told her after he saved her life. And he loves her. We’ve been through this, Michael.”

“Well maybe I -” he stops himself before the words can fly out of his mouth. Once they’re out there he knows he can’t take them back, especially is Isobel is witness to them. She’ll never let him forget it.

“Maybe you _what_?” She asks carefully, like she knows what he was going to say anyway.

Michael huffs. “Look. I might not have pined pathetically after Alex for 10 years or brought him back to life from a gunshot wound with my own hand --” the words seem harsh but his tone is almost completely sarcastic. Isobel knows that he doesn’t really blame Max for all of that, not anymore. Liz has been more than helpful when it comes to alien stuff _and_ she’s a good friend. Not to mention the good she does for Max. “--I care about him, Iz. He makes me -- quiet.”

There’s a soft intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Oh, Michael,” Isobel says gently. “Okay. I’ll tell Max. What do you need for this takeover of yours? I can take some time off and come --”

“No,” Michael says firmly. “No, Iz. This isn’t an alien problem right now and I want to keep it like that.”

“But if he’s asked you to --”

“He doesn’t need my powers, just me. My brain I mean.”

Isobel laughs and he can picture her smirking. “God, you’re just as bad as Max.”

“Hey!”

“Just be careful, Michael.”

“I will.”

“And bring him home to visit.”

“Not a chance.”

“Alright, then we’ll have dinner next time I’m in town. Oh, say, in two weeks?”

“Wait -- what?”

“Okay, love you! Bye!”

“Wait, Iz--”

Michael stares down at his phone as the contact info disappears.

“Aw, fuck.”

*

He’s not sure what he expects to find when he walks into work the next day. At best, he’s hoping to see Alex at lunch or sometime during the day to work on their project. At worst, he’s thinking that he won’t hear from Alex all day, that he will have decided that distance is the best way to deal with the issue of his father.

So, Michael’s surprised when he walks in through the big glass doors and finds Alex waiting at reception, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Guerin.” Alex offers him one of the cups.

Michael accepts the coffee. “Manes,” he replies carefully, letting Alex take the lead on this one.

“I thought we could dive straight back into the work,” is what Alex says after a momentary pause to sip at his drink. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

Michael raises an eyebrow at him, but he understands what this is now. Alex met him at reception, brought him coffee, and is casually asking about how his weekend went. He’s making it clear that they’re still working together, that they’re friendly, and that none of that is going to change because of what happened on the weekend. It’s a very loud _fuck you_ to Jesse Manes, who is no doubt keeping tabs on the both of them now.

“The rest of my weekend was…” he lets his gaze drift down the tall, lean line of Alex’s body and then snaps back to his face. “Uneventful. Boring, really.”

Alex rolls his eyes but he’s smiling into the lid of his takeaway cup. "Mine as well. Shall we?"

"Yours or mine?" he asks, then remembers what happened in Alex's office just yesterday. "Mine, actually. I've got some paperwork there…"

Alex nods his agreement, eyes wide with gratitude.

They make idle chit chat on the way and no one pays them much mind except to say good morning. Michael opens the door to his office and gestures Alex in.

The door's barely clicked closed behind them and Alex is spinning him around with a hand on his bicep, pressing their mouths together.

It's can't get as heated as some of the other kisses they've shared in this office, given the unlocked door and the coffee cups they're both still holding.

Michael eagerly accepts the kiss as it is though, the easy slide of their mouths together, and cups Alex's face with his free hand to hold him there.

When they break away, Alex stays close, hand resting on Michael's chest.

"I missed you," he murmurs.

Michael doesn't point out that they saw each other _just_ last night. "Me too," he says, punctuating the words with one more kiss. "I've got a meeting in ten minutes. We'll talk after?"

Alex nods his head and goes to sit behind the desk when Michael lets him go. "I'll be here."

*

Michael goes to the meeting with his boss and several other high-ups from engineering, and tries not to look surprised when he leaves the meeting with his job still intact. Maybe firing him without any real cause would have been too dramatic and caused suspicion, but Michael had been certain that he was going to hear from Jesse Manes today, one way or another.

But he makes it back to his office where Alex is still waiting, and he’s even gone and gotten them fresh cups of coffee.

“I could get used to this,” Michael jokes.

Alex rolls his eyes with a smile. “How was the meeting?”

“Pleasantly uneventful,” he replies. “No slaps on the wrist, no ‘pack up your bags and leave’. They just asked how Odyssey was going and if we needed any extra man power.”

“What did you say?”

“That I’m all the man power you need.”

One eyebrow rises. Michael laughs.

“I said I’d have to consult my project manager.”

Alex shakes his head. He’s still smiling, and Michael wants to lean over and feel that smile against his own mouth. “We don’t need anyone else. Odyssey’s almost done anyway. I just want us to keep working on it on paper so we can focus on other things.”

Michael _knows_ that he means other _business_ things like taking down his father, but he can’t help that his lips curl into a grin.

Alex fixes him with a look. “Stop it. We have serious things to talk about.”

Michael nods, then remembers his conversation with Isobel. “Actually, on that note…”

“Mm?” Alex pushes one of the coffee cups towards Michael and picks up the other.

“My sister wants to meet you,” he says, in an attempt to rip the band-aid off. “She’s visiting in two weeks.”

Alex freezes, cup halfway to his mouth, and he stares at Michael. When he doesn’t say anything, Michael continues:

“I had to tell them that you know, obviously.” He ducks his head, feeling a little out of his element. Is Alex freaking out about the alien reveal? They didn’t talk about it after the initial conversation, except for a few errant comments here and there. It’s possible that he’s less calm about it, after having time to think. “And uh - she mentioned that she’s coming here. And that she wants to meet you. Isobel usually gets what she wants one way or another, so it’s just easier to play along.” He’s rambling now. Great.

“You want me to meet your sister?” Alex squeaks, after a few seconds.

Michael looks down at his cup, shy all of a sudden. “Um, yeah. If you like. She’ll be in town… you’ll be in town…” he winces at how stupid he sounds. “...I’ll be in town.”

Alex runs a hand through his hair, looking flustered all of a sudden. “Uh, yes? Yes. Yes?” He clears his throat. “Should we have dinner? Drinks? What is she going to expect?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve never, uh, had to introduce her to anyone.”

He watches Alex’s expression go soft at that, then as his eyes widen again.

“Remind me what your sister’s speciality is again?”

There’s a smart reply at the tip of his tongue but Michael takes pity on him. “Mind reader,” he replies. “ _Influencer_ , she calls it.”

Alex goes a little pale and Michael reaches over to squeeze his shoulder. “Seriously, Alex, don’t worry about it. She’s not going to mind warp you or anything. Trust me, you’re the least complicated person to be let in on the alien secret.”

“Oh?” Alex relaxes a little.

“Yeah, this doesn’t even compare to Max telling Liz.” He’s not about to delve into the lovesick story that resulted in Max healing Liz’s gunshot wound; there’ll be time for that later. “It wasn’t so much that he told the girl he’d been mooning over for half our lives, it was that he told the _biomedical engineer_ he’d been mooning over for half our lives. You are uncomplicated compared to that.” He drops a daring kiss to the top of Alex’s head.

Alex, who had until that point had been making small humming sounds to show that he was following along, freezes under Michael’s touch. Michael immediately leans back and takes his hands off Alex.

“I’m sorry, did I -”

“What? No.” Alex shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not you. I just -- what did you say her name was? Max’s -- girlfriend?”

“It’s complicated,” Michael says automatically, having heard it often enough from Max. Then, more carefully: “Liz? Liz Ortecho?”

Alex drops his face into his hands, shoulders shaking. It isn’t until he says: “Oh my god,” that Michael realises he’s laughing.

“What?” Michael queries, even though he’s got a sneaking suspicion he knows the answer. “You’re not serious --?”

“Yup.” Alex raises his head. “I know Liz. We’ve been friends since college. She dated my roommate for a while.”

Michael blanches. “You know _Valenti_?”

Alex’s mouth falls open to form a perfect ‘o’. “We’re kind of -- I mean, he’s sort of my best friend. _You_ know Kyle?”

Michael sits down in his chair with a huff of disbelief. How is this his life? He’d moved _states_ to get away from the drama of Roswell, and he's gone and fallen for the one person in a thousand mile radius who’s linked to Liz _and_ Valenti.

“Next you’ll tell me you know Deluca.”

“Well…” Alex trails off sheepishly. Michael groans. “I’ve only spoken to her over the phone! When Liz was visiting. And -- we text sometimes.”

Michael looks at the ceiling when the room starts to spin a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex watching him warily. Michael recognises the look on his face. It’s the same expression he’d had when he talked about _cooling things off_ and after Jesse had caught them, before Michael had made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“This seems like… too much?” Alex ventures. He grips the arms of the chair and moves to stand up. “I should go.”

“No, don’t be stupid.” Alex scoffs but he sits back down. “Mostly I’m just appalled that with all of this, we haven’t met until now. Liz absolutely should have told me she had a hot friend living out here. I would’ve moved sooner.”

Alex’s cheeks go pink at the praise and he leans forwards, elbows on the desk. “She was just trying to preserve my innocence,” he says.

Michael lets out a bark of laughter, rubs a hand down his face. “It’s definitely a lot, but it’s not too much.” He reaches out to take a gamble and tangles his fingers with Alex’s, grinning when the other doesn’t pull away. “You should know something though.”

“ _Oy vey_ ,” Alex mutters. “What _now_?”

Michael runs his thumb along the back of Alex’s hand. “Valenti and I don’t like each other much. He was kind of a dick in highschool.”

“He’s kind of a dick now.”

He snorts in surprise. “Okay. He also knows about the alien stuff.”

 _That_ gets him a raised eyebrow and a resigned sigh. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope. Liz shared the info back when she first found out. Nice to know he took it seriously enough not to tell his best friend.”

Alex looks like he wants to be mad about that but shakes the expression from his face. “That’s good. That he’ll keep your secret to that extent.” He blinks rapidly, like something has just dawned on him. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he says softly. “I thought I was going to have to keep this all to myself but… we can totally gossip about you guys.”

“Alright.” Michael pulls back and smacks the desk with an open palm. “That’s enough of that. You said you wanted to work?”

Alex smirks at him in a way that says he knows what Michael’s doing. “Yes. I was actually thinking of bringing Liz in on the Odyssey project.”

“Why --?”

“For a biological component. Odyssey’s algorithm is already incredibly advanced, but that keeps people out. What about letting people in? Think about it: instead of a thumb print or a retinal scan, we could lock the security system to a biological imprint. Not just DNA--”

“--it’d be too easy to fake,” Michael finishes for him. “So--?”

“Something more advanced then,” Alex continues. “I don’t know exactly what. That’s where Liz would come in.”

“So why didn’t you?” Michael asks. “Bring her in?”

Alex shrugs one shoulder, not quite meeting his eye. “Cause I’m going to use Odyssey to take my father’s company, and I didn’t want anyone else in the firing line with me. I didn’t want anyone that I cared about involved.”

“ _I’m_ involved.”

His gaze snaps up to meet Michael’s. “I know. That’s bad enough. But you were already involved by the time I--”

“I can take care of myself, Alex.” Michael tells him firmly. He’s survived this long; he’s sure he can take care of himself against the likes of Jesse Manes. Even if he wasn’t sure, he knows he wouldn’t back down from this, not when Alex is at stake. “And I think Liz would want to help, if you told her what’s going on.”

He watches as Alex takes in a slow breath, one… two… three… and then exhales it.

“My father has always been _my_ war,” he says, when he’s done. “I guess I just never thought I’d have allies in that war.”

Michael reaches a hand back out over the desk, watching Alex intently until the other returns the gesture, linking their fingers once again.

“You have an ally,” he says. The look of awe and surprise on Alex’s face makes his heart _sing_ and it’s so early, too early to be feeling like this but Michael is ready to put a name to it, even if he thinks Alex might not be ready to hear it. He’ll take on a hundred Jesses if it means keeping Alex safe.

“And I’m willing to bet you’ve got a few more, just waiting for a signal.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh we getting into that plot shit now.
> 
> as always, hit me up [on tumblr](http://queersirius.tumblr.com/ask) if you've got any questions/concerns

Alex lays out his plan so methodically that Michael’s beginning to realise Alex has been planning this far longer than he’d considered. Maybe he’d just been looking for a catalyst, something to push him into action, or maybe this had always been inevitable. Either way, it’s easy to see how Alex’s mind lends itself to the inner workings of code. Michael can work with code if he has to but he likes the way things fit together; machines, chemistry, biology. More often than not, his mind is already busy pulling something apart and figuring out how to put it back together again. Code takes a kind of disciplined patience he doesn’t maintain well.

“Are you still with me?” Alex asks.

Michael laughs. “Genius,” he says, pointing a finger at his own chest.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Okay, genius. Your eyes look like they’re about to bug out of your head.”

“I’m fine,” Michael assures him, gently. “Let me make sure I’ve got it straight though--” Alex snickers. “Stop it. Obviously nothing I do is straight, but I’m trying to be serious.” He runs a hand through his curls and sucks in a breath.

They’ve moved to a cafe three streets over from the office building. The inane chatter of the other customers drowns out their conversation and to any outside observer, they’re two colleagues or friends grabbing a hot beverage and splitting a comically large cookie at Michael’s request. Despite his ability to shut off any security cameras that might survey them at the office, they’d decided that it was better to do their plotting somewhere else, if only so they weren’t looking over their shoulders and expecting Jesse Manes to walk in at any given moment.

“You are going to sabotage your father’s last two major projects,” Michael begins, ordering the information into a timeline of his own. “No -- you’ve already started doing that. That’s why you wanted to work on the last one. You’re making it obvious that the mistakes are all his, probably due to his -- excessive drinking?” Alex nods encouragingly. “Your father has had zero input into Odyssey. When you present the project to the board and they compare it to his projects, it’ll be obvious that he’s not fit to run the company anymore.” He stops to think, remembering what Alex had told him. “There might be a problem with your brothers?”

Alex shakes his head. “Only Flint. The rest of them are too involved with the physical side of private security. Bodyguards and stuff. They never bothered with the business aspect. Just went where dad told them to, like good little soldiers.”

When he starts to frown, Michael coaxes him back to the present conversation. “What about Flint?”

“He’s my father’s right hand man,” Alex explains. “But if we can really impress the board with Odyssey, it won’t matter. He’s too tangled up in everything my dad does.”

Michael nods, processing the information again. “What do you need from me?”

Alex looks surprised at the question, but pleased. “Help finish Odyssey. Help Liz, if that’s in your wheelhouse.” Michael grins at him in a way that says it is. “And help me avoid suspicion?”

“Is  _ that  _ all?” Michael grins when Alex reaches over to shove his shoulder gently. “Seriously, Alex. This sounds like a piece of cake. Oh -- we should get cake.”

*

He calls Liz.

Alex has to invite her onto the project on a professional level, but there are a thousand things that Michael has to fill her in on before she agrees to come to Los Angeles.

“You’re dating  _ Alex Manes _ ?” is what she takes away from their very long conversation.

“I don’t know if that’s what it is,” he admits, running a hand through his curls. He’s back in his apartment and he has to remember that, unlike Isobel, Liz isn’t going to be able to tell that he’s only wearing sweats. “I don’t know if we’re calling it dating.”

“You go soft when you say his name, Mikey,” Liz says matter-of-factly. Even the nickname doesn’t sound like the usual kind of tease. “You better find out what you’re calling it. On second thought, maybe I should just call Alex and ask  _ him _ .”

“Please, god.” Michael groans, hitting his head on the wall in front of him with  _ thud _ . “Don’t. We’re not in highschool. I don’t need you to ask my crush if he likes me back. I’m pretty sure I’ve got that covered.”

Liz coughs, probably to hide a laugh. “Alright, calm down. Walk me through the project again.”

“Nah, that’s Alex’s job,” he says. “I just wanted to give you the heads up about -- all the other stuff, before he talks to you.”

“You mean the part where he knows that you and Max and Isobel are aliens? Or the part where he’s planning to take down his father’s company?”

“Take  _ over _ his father’s company,” Michael corrects her. “But yeah. The alien stuff mostly.”

“I remember when I was the only human who knew your secret,” Liz says wistfully. “Ay dios mio. At least I can finally gossip about aliens to someone other than Kyle.”

Michael’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure you haven’t talked to Alex about this yet?”

Liz’s laugh echoes in his mind, even after they’ve hung up.

*

“Hey, are we dating?”

He asks later that night when they’re tangled up together on his couch, having just emptied a few take-out boxes. Alex is sprawled on top of him, lazily mouthing at his neck in a way that promises to eventually ramp up to something more, and Michael’s thumbs are rubbing slow circles into his hips.

He freezes at the question and Michael copies him reflexively. Then Alex is looking down at him with a wary expression, one that Michael had thought they were well past. He hates himself a little for putting it on Alex’s face again.

“What do you think this is, Michael?” he asks.

“Really -- nice?” Michael tries.

The frown grows deeper and he struggles to catch up, to find their equilibrium again. “It was just -- something Liz said, and I didn’t know how to answer.” Alex’s expression softens, but it’s not quite there yet. “Is that what  _ you  _ want? The dating thing?”

Instead of doing anything that Michael expects, as usual, Alex drops his forehead to Michael’s chest and laughs. “ _ Michael _ ,” he says, exasperated and fond. Those emotions, at least, Michael knows. “We have been dating for  _ weeks _ .”

It’s Michael’s turn to frown. “What? No, we haven’t. I would’ve known.”

“Evidently not,” Alex counters. He lifts his head so that his chin is resting on Michael’s chest and he can look him in the eye. “I stay here more than I stay in my own apartment. We spend all our time together. We get lunch nearly every day and dinner’s the same. We’ve had sex on every surface of your apartment. Yesterday, you ordered that piece of cake and we shared it.  _ With one fork _ .”

When Michael says nothing (because he’s been shocked into silence; a rare occurrence), Alex leans forward to kiss the astonished expression off of his face.

“I’m dating an idiot,” he laughs, when he eventually pulls back.

“You’re dating a genius,” Michael answers easily, then has to lie back and close his eyes against the feeling that comes with the words. “Does this mean I get to introduce you to people as my boyfriend now?”

Alex blinks at him for a second and then smashes their lips together, the laziness of before completely forgotten in favour of the desperate press of their tongues. They don’t even make it to the next room; Alex fucks him open right there on the couch until he can’t think and every gasp, every hitch in his breath is  _ alex alex alex _ .

*

It helps that Alex spends almost every night at his place. He has to go back to his own apartment every few days to pack a new bag and to make it look like he’s actually living there, but every other night he’s in Michael’s bed.

And it’s not just sex -- though that part continues to be fucking fantastic. A lot of their time is spent working on things they can’t touch when they’re at the office. Alex is singularly focused when he wants something done, which is hot as hell and has resulted in Michael sucking his brains out through his cock more than once, but there’s an ache in Michael that wants, wants, wants  _ something _ and he doesn’t know what it is exactly but it starts with Alex’s bag in his bedroom cupboard and Alex’s aftershave on his sink. It’s passing Alex a beer with nothing but his mind and having Alex look at him in awe and wonder. It’s his hand on Alex’s thigh, pressed together on his couch, and watching sleepily as Alex types away on his laptop. It’s waking up to Alex’s cold toes digging into his calves, the rest of him warm and pressed against the length of Michael’s body. He’s never had so much morning sex in his life. He never wants it to stop.

Two weeks pass before Michael can really register them. Work continues to be uneventful, which makes him suspicious but there’s really nothing he can do about that. He and Alex continue their work on Odyssey, making sure it’s ready for Liz’s input, and then before he knows it, Michael’s on the phone with Isobel.

“You promised me dinner, Michael,” she reminds him.

He runs a hand down his face, groaning. “I thought I’d have two weeks to come up with an excuse to get out of it.”

“Well, that’s on you, isn’t it?” He can feel her smirking on the other end. “Don’t worry; Max and Liz will be there to cushion the awkward.”

“Yeah, that’s great -- wait. You brought  _ Max _ ?”

“Okay, we’ll see you at seven. I’ll text you the address. Bye!”

Michael stares at his phone in disbelief. He’s pulled from thoughts of sororicide by the warm arms that encircle his waist and the lips that press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Isobel,” Michael says in explanation. “I forgot about our dinner. She brought Max.”

“Mm,” Alex agrees, oddly calm given this turn of events. “Liz texted me. Should we skip town? Go away for the weekend and deal with the wrath of your siblings later?”

Michael closes his eyes and lets himself imagine it for the span of ten seconds. Him and Alex driving past the city limits in his truck, finding some cheesy motel and staying someplace where no one knows them or wants to have dinner with them.

“I’d never hear the end of it,” he says eventually, but he keeps the thought tucked into a warm part of his mind. “Better to get it over and done with.”

*

Isobel has picked a place nice enough that they wear their suits. Michael doesn’t mind so much when he gets to see the curve of Alex’s arse in his slacks, the lines of his shoulders under the jacket. It does take them two tries to get out of the apartment though, because as good as Alex looks  _ in  _ his suit, he looks even better with the pants around his ankles and the jacket at his elbows, locking his arms behind his back.

(“They’re gonna --  _ hng _ \-- get a bad --  _ ah ah  _ \-- first impression.”

“Darlin’, you are --  _ fuck  _ \-- way too coherent right now.”)

They still make it on time. Barely.

Isobel, Max, and Liz are waiting outside the restaurant when they arrive. Despite the irritation he’d initially felt, Michael can’t deny the bone-deep warmth and calm he feels when he sees his siblings. It’s been months since they’ve all been together, and he’s not even slightly embarrassed by the way that the the three of them collide into each other, all arms and tight embraces. Max claps him on the back as they pull away and Isobel pinches his cheeks.

They look good. Max looks less haunted than he usually does, like maybe he’s smiling more than once a day. Isobel doesn’t look unhappy, which is how he knows things are okay with her.

They’re pulled from their own little world by Liz’s happy squeal as she wraps her arms around Alex. He, in turn, winds his arms around her middle and lifts her off the ground slightly. They’re caught in their own moment so the siblings wait patiently, Michael watching in fascination. It’s the first time he’s seen Alex be like this with anyone else and he can’t drag his gaze away.

Then they’re turning back to the rest of the party and Michael is suddenly nervous.

Max and Isobel stare Alex down. He meets their gazes unflinchingly.

“You’re shorter than I expected,” Isobel says.

“A little short for a stormtrooper?” Alex asks.

Isobel blinks at him and then rears her head back in laughter, surprised and genuine.

Michael looks at him and thinks, with startling clarity,  _ I love you _ .

*

Alex has charmed the pants off of them by the time the food’s brought around.

“We should absolutely have a swap,” he laughs. “Provide me with photos of teenage Michael and I’ll tell you all about Liz I-created-a-lab-in-my-college-dorm-room Oretcho.”

“ _ Alex _ ,” Liz scolds him, expression filled with betrayal.

“Sorry, Liz.” He sounds anything but. “A man will do what he must to get embarrassing pictures of his boyfriend.”

Michael counts to ten and reminds himself that it would be inappropriate to drag Alex into the bathroom for an impromptu handjob right now.

Isobel claps her hands together in delight. "It would be my pleasure."

" _ Iz _ !" Michael protests, taking his turn to sound betrayed. He looks to Max for support but his brother just shrugs, looking far too amused.

"Sorry, man," he says. Like Alex, he doesn't sound sorry at all. "I want to hear those college Liz stories." He leans forward in his chair and stage whispers to Alex: "I've got music recital footage."

Alex lights up.

*

Michael crowds him against the door of the apartment the second that the lock turns.

"Oh, hello," Alex says, when he's allowed to breathe. He pats uselessly at Michael's shoulders, unable to wipe the smile from his face. "That went well, I think. Do you think it went well?"

Michael kisses him in response. It's slow and thorough; an attempt to convey just how pleased he is with the way things went tonight. 

He doesn't have the words to explain what he's feeling right now; he's giddy with his feelings for Alex but there's also a kind of lightning-hot satisfaction that's been pooling in the pit of his stomach ever since he watched Alex shake Max's hand, hug Isobel and receive a kiss on the cheek. His siblings approve of Alex; they more than approve of him, they like him, and Michael would have been a fool to pretend that didn't matter to him. They'd left the restaurant with promises of lunch tomorrow, just the three of them, and Michael knows he's going to get grilled but he can't find it in him to care.

"Hey." He's pulled from his thoughts by Alex's hand on his face, thumb gently rubbing against his jaw. "Where'd you go?"

He swallows the more intense feelings for now. There'll be time for that later. "Just thinking about some of the things that Liz said."

"Mm?"

He reaches up to press the pad of his thumb to Alex's nose. "A septum piercing?  _ Hot _ ."

Alex throws his head back and laughs. Michael can't do anything else but kiss him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit u guys, this is the penultimate chapter!! i finally figured out where i want to end it, so the next chapter is it. maybe an epilogue? we'll see.
> 
> as always, ya'll are incredibly sweet and i'm very grateful for u. hit me up [here](http:queersirius.tumblr.com/ask) if u need anything

Michael was right about getting grilled. He spends his lunch hour answering deceptively calm questions from Max and increasingly inappropriate ones from Isobel.

" _Iz_!" Max protests finally, after Isobel has finally enquired after the quality of the sex.

"Epic, obviously," Michael scoffs, if only so he can delight in Max's flustered reaction.

"But do you _trust_ him, Michael?" Max asks seriously. "You've only known him a few months."

"If he was going to sell me out, he would've done it a long time ago," he answers, echoing Alex's sentiment. "Besides, he's not like that." He looks down at his plate, smiling at the thought of Alex's bewildered face; surprised, a little intrigued, but not afraid of him.

He feels, rather than sees, the long look that the Evans twins share.

"Okay," Isobel says after a long moment of silence. "What about this company takeover? It sounds dangerous."

Michael shakes his head. "He's got it all planned out; I'm honestly just along for the ride. It's all corporate. No alien business required."

Isobel purses her lips. Max considers this carefully as he pokes at his lunch with a fork.

"Well," Isobel says, popping a fry into her mouth like they're back in the Crashdown. "Just make sure you return Liz in the condition that we gave her to you, or I'll never hear the end of it."

"Iz, I wouldn't--"

"Not _you_ , Max." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "I was talking about my _wife_."

*

The Manes Company lab that Liz ends up working in is located in a building halfway across town, which just doesn’t work for Michael. He and Alex have done everything that they can without further input from Liz so there's no real reason for Michael to be in the main office. Alex sends him to help Liz, which means that they get to spend far less time together, during the day and at night. He and Liz are working long hours; they want to figure this thing out as quickly as possible but even with two genius brains in the room, it’s proving difficult.

“We’ve been over this,” Michael groans, spinning around on one of the stools that sit at Liz’s workbench. She has her own room, small but private, which is a godsend. “It can’t _just_ be about DNA; it’s too easy to fake. So are fingerprints and retinal scans.”

Liz scoffs. “ _Mierda_. I wouldn’t call that easy, Michael. The common man isn’t walking around just ready to produce a fake retinal scan.”

“No,” Michael allows, reaching up to pick up a beaker off her desk, inspecting it. “But we’re talking about the kind of buyers who are worried about -- nay, _expect_ \-- corporate espionage. Fake retinal scans and thumb prints aren’t out of the realm of possibility.”

Liz closes her eyes and sighs. Michael waits. They’ve worked together before, though that had been on alien stuff, when he visited home. He still knows that face though, the one she makes when she’s hit a wall in regards to ideas and there’s only one thing left to do.

She looks at him and opens her mouth.

“Jagged little pill?” He asks.

She shuts her mouth and nods in surprise. He shrugs. Maybe he pays attention; so what?

“I’ll get the wine,” he tells her, placing the beaker back on the table and sliding off the stool.

“Michael.”

He turns halfway to the door to see Liz looking at him carefully. Considering. He prickles under the attention.

“Yeah?”

After a moment, she smiles. “Get two.”

Michael salutes her and leaves with a grin on his face.

*

It takes them a week, which to any other living being is going to be impressive but to two geniuses with the entirety of the biomedical, chemical, and mechanical engineering fields behind them, not to mention the alien science that Michael isn’t _not_ using, they’re both more than a little frustrated when they finally crack the thing.

“A whole body scan.” Liz slaps her forehead. “ _Carajo_. Why wasn’t that our first thought?”

“Because the idea’s too clunky at a basic level,” Michael reasons with her. “No one’s going to want to stand in their doorway for ten minutes while the system completes a scan. We have to streamline it. Maybe focus on heart rate and body posture?”

“What about facial recognition and a retinal scan at the same time?” Liz posits. “If we couple those with basic vital signs…”

Michael whistles. “Can you get it to do that in under thirty seconds?”

She throws him a look that tells him in no uncertain terms exactly what she thinks of that question. “Let me worry about the bio aspect. Can you put the hardware together?”

“Of course I can.”

“Can Alex write the facial recognition software?”

Michael scoffs, but he’s smiling fondly at the thought of Alex. “He’s probably already got one backed up somewhere and ready to go.”

"Are you saying your boyfriend is over prepared?" Liz laughs, but she looks endlessly fond as well. It's not the first time Michael's wondered how he was lucky enough to be loved by these people.

"I was going to say -- methodical," is his answer.

That makes Liz laugh even louder. "Go and tell him we have a plan."

Michael's brow furrows. "Don't I need to be here?"

She shakes her head. "I can get started on the logistics today. I know how much you want to see Alex." She reaches over to shove at his shoulder. "Go tell our boy."

*

Alex doesn't look away from his monitors as the door opens. He only raises a hand to dismiss the intruder, saying: "Not now, I'm busy." He makes a noise of frustration when the door closes again.

"I said I'm --"

"Can't take a break?" Michael asks, leaning back against the door and watching the lines of Alex's forearms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as his fingers pause on the keyboard. "Even for me?"

His head snaps to the side, looking around the monitors, gaze wild until it finds Michael in the doorway.

"Michael!" Alex exclaims, practically leaping over the desk towards him.

It's ridiculous. It's only been two days and two nights since they last saw each other, and only one night since they'd talked on the phone. Still, Michael lets himself be pinned against the door, the hands in his curls pulling him closer even as the hips against his own hold him firmly against the door.

When they finally come up for air, a minute, an hour, a lifetime later, he rests his forehead against Alex's and laughs breathlessly.

"I'm starting to think we have a problem."

"Well, that's the first step," Alex mumbles nonsensically as he curls Michael's hair around his fingers. "Admitting you have a problem."

"That's only if you want to quit," Michael tells him, hands coming up to cup his face. "And that's the last thing I want to do, darlin'."

Alex smiles stupidly at him, going soft in the way that he does when Michael uses endearments. Michael kisses him on the tip of his nose and then drops his hands.

"I did actually come with news. Liz and I figured something out."

Alex makes a pleased, humming sound and then his eyes focus as he processes Michael’s words.

“Really?” he asks, hands dropping to his sides as he takes a step back. “That was quick.”

Michael grins, undeterred by the sudden distance between them. Alex has his determined expression on, ready to get down to business (of the professional kind), and it’s one of Michael’s Top Five Alex Expressions. It tends to make him hot all over, especially when that expression is levelled at him outside of a professional setting, but he’s willing to keep it on the level for now.

“Took longer than it should have,” he says. “It’s a sore spot for the both of us; don’t ask. Sit down and let me tell you what we’re thinking…”

He details the plan to Alex, who nods along in that way of his that means he’s listening and processing the information, but already planning ahead a few steps down the road. At one point he turns to his monitor and opens a window, typing in code faster than Michael can process what it means. He’s picked up a little from watching Alex work, enough to understand the basics of what his boyfriend does and enough to emulate those basics if he ever needs to, but not enough to follow Alex when he’s like this.

“You were right,” he says, even as his fingers fly across the keyboard. It’s incredibly distracting. “I do have something I can use. It'll have to be _heavily_ modified since it's only designed to cross reference three facial features. And then I'll have to shape it to whatever program Liz designs; the facial software will have to link seamlessly with the registered vital signs, not to mention making sure it runs on the hardware you come up with."

Michael presses a kiss to the top of his head. "You're in work mode. I should go."

"No, wait." Alex reaches out and snatches his hand before he can leave. "You came all this way. At least let me say hi properly."

Michael raises an eyebrow, thinking of their long greeting against the door.

Alex just grins as he stands up. "Come on."

*

They're more careful now about fucking outside the apartment after being caught by Jesse Manes. It doesn't stop them, not when there's days like this and they can't keep their hands off of one another.

It means that they remember to lock doors now, maybe even shove a chair under the handle. It means they sneak into the staff bathroom and lock the door behind them so that Alex can get Michael against the sink, drop to his knees on the cool tiles and wrap his mouth around the length of him. It means Michael can fist one hand in Alex's hair and bite down on the knuckle of the other, trying to stay silent as Alex works him up and down, bringing him to the edge of desperation.

"God, your _mouth_ ," Michael pants, when Alex comes up for breath. It feels like he's been taking Michael apart for hours with tongue and wet suction. He pulls Alex up with a hand on his neck, smashing their mouths together unceremoniously.

Minutes later, he has both of their cocks in hand, stroking them together as they lean against the sink for support, because neither of them could wait long enough for anything else.

"Is it always like this?" Alex asks on a gasp. His hands are clutching at Michael's shoulders, his hips shifting _up_ and _forward_ with each _pull_ and _twist_ of Michael's hands.

"What -- do you -- mean?" Michael pants wetly into the crook of his neck.

Alex grips harder and rolls his hips, forcing a groan out of Michael. "Is it always -- gonna be --" his breath hitches on a whine. "This good? Is this -- an alien thing?"

Michael laughs into his skin, happy and delighted and in love. He lifts his lips to Alex's ear. "I think that's just you and me, sweetheart," he says, voice hoarse and breathy.

Neither of them last long after that.

They clean up as best they can but they still look like they were doing exactly what they were doing. Even if Alex's shirt wasn't crumpled and Michael's slacks didn't have a water mark from where he'd been pushed against the sink, their activities are written plain across their face.

"So I'll be out at Liz's lab for a while longer," Michael says, running fingers through Alex's hair in an attempt to salvage it. "But I'll visit for lunch more often if this is the kind of treat I get."

Alex swats his hand away with a smile. "The faster we get this done, the faster you can come back and work _here_ . Where we can have _lunch_ as often as we want, _and_ we might actually see each other before midnight."

"Mm, that'd be nice," Michael agrees. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Alex's temple. "Fine. I'll go and work hard. Ugh. Liz is gonna know exactly what we were doing."

Alex let's out a snort of laughter and pushes Michael towards the door. "Go. I'll see you at home."

They both freeze at the same time. Michael goes bright pink. Alex goes pale.

"I mean --" he starts, wringing his hands. He's looking at the floor, refusing to meet Michael's wide, startled eyes. "I'm sorry -- I didn't mean to -- of course it's not--"

Michael's steps back over to him in the time that it takes him to get out one more _I'm sorry_. He takes Alex's face in his hands and kisses him soundly, only pulling back when he feels Alex go soft against him. He slides their noses together and exhales on a smile.

"Yeah," he says simply. "I'll see you at home."

*

It shouldn't be that easy, but it is. Alex spends every night at Michael’s apartment, even when Michael isn’t getting there until after midnight. He cherishes even those nights, when he crawls into bed besides a warm, sleepy Alex, who surfaces just long enough into consciousness to be wrapped up in Michael’s arms, or to shift and throw a leg over Michael’s, an arm over his middle.

The project shouldn't be that easy, but it is. Everything goes just that little bit faster when he doesn’t have Alex there to distract himself with, and working with Liz is at least as pleasant as working with Alex, with the added bonus of being more productive. She stays the two weeks necessary to complete writing her part of the program, then tells them she’s going back to Roswell.

“ _Really_?” Michael asks, incredulous. He knows that not everyone hightailed it out of New Mexico as soon as possible, but he at least thought he and Liz were on the same page about their hometown.

“Yeah,” she answers, wistfully. She’s got an expression that might imply she’s disappointed in herself, but it’s hard to see that past the dopey grin. “I’ve got my dad, and there’s work I can do there. Besides, I miss Max.” Ah, there it is. The reason for the dopey, lovesick smile. “I think it’s time we officially work it out.”

Michael makes a gagging sound but in truth, he’s happy for them. Liz deserves all the happiness in the world and if his dork of a brother is what does it for her; well, he’s not going to judge. He’s not going to _ask_ , but he’s not going to judge.

He and Alex send her off at the airport with a teary goodbye.

“We should go and visit,” Alex says. “When everything’s settled.”

Michael makes a face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, slipping his hand into Michael’s and linking their fingers. “I’d like to see where you grew up. Hang out with everyone on their home turf. Besides,” he smirks. “Kyle’s too busy to come visit me, so I have to go visit him.”

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes. It’s something he’s learnt from Alex. “Well, if _Valenti_ needs you to go…” He can’t be too annoyed though, not when Alex holds his hand the whole way back to the truck.

None of it should be that easy, but before he knows it, Michael is standing to Alex's left in a conference room as Alex details the Odyssey Project to a table full of higher-ups who look impressed enough but probably don’t understand the kind of work that went into a security system like this. Michael doesn’t care about the credit, not really, not as long as it does the job, he gets paid, and everything goes according to Alex’s plan.

Jesse Manes is among them, and it’s a little nerve wracking to be in a room with him again. It’s worth it though, to see his expression drop little by little, the further Alex explains the project and all that went into creating Odyssey. The board members are looking more and more impressed with Alex as the minutes tick by, and less and less impressed with Jesse.

When Alex finishes his presentation and is standing proudly beside Michael, one of the board members clears her throat.

“Well, it seems as though we have quite a bit to discuss.” The spares a withering glance for Jesse as she stands. “About this fantastic project, and the future of the company. We’ll be in touch, Mr Manes.”

“Alex,” he says, as they reach to shake hands. “Please.”

She nods her acknowledgement and then gestures for he and Michael to leave the room. As they do, Michael’s manager grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, a wide grin on his face.

“Guerin, you got a second?”

Michael looks back to Alex, who shrugs and mouths _in my office_ whilst undoing the top button of his shirt. Michael glowers at him as he disappears behind a corner, then returns his attention to his manager, barely. He sticks around long enough to explain the highlights of the project and to promise that yes, he will absolutely provide a full update tomorrow but right now there was something that Mr Manes, _yes -- Alex_ , had wanted to discuss about the project, probably just a debrief, yes thank you sir, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.

Then he’s heading to Alex’s office, moving as fast as he can while trying to look casual. He’s already undoing his tie as he opens the door, but the sight that he’s greeted with is not the one he’s expecting.

“Good of you to join us, Mr Guerin,” Jesse Manes says. “Please close the door behind you.”

*

Jesse Manes has a gun, because of course he does.

Jesse Manes has a gun because he’s a lunatic and he owns one of the most successful private security companies in America, giving him plenty of access to firearms without so much as a background check.

Jesse Manes has a gun, and he has it pointed at his son.

Michael moves across the room without thinking, ignoring Alex’s horrified “Michael, _no_ ,” to put his body between Alex and his father.

“You think I won’t shoot you both?” Jesse spits. “ _You’re_ the reason he’s done this. He was too much of a coward before you came along--”

“Asshole,” Michael snarls, cutting him off. His hands curl into fists by his sides. He feels Alex’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t,” he says, his touch soft even as his tone is firm. “He’s not worth that.”

Jesse looks from Alex’s face to his hand on Michael’s shoulder and his expressions curls into something that makes Michael’s blood go cold.

“You think I don’t know what he is?” Jesse asks. His face contorts on the _he_ , like he can barely stand to acknowledge Michael. “You think I didn’t perform an extensive background check on him after I caught you two? After I realised you were engaging in your perversions?”

Alex’s hand tightens on Michael’s shoulder. He’s glad for the grounding sensation because otherwise, he knows he would be ready to lose it right now.

“That’s right,” Jesse continues, gun still firmly trained on Michael. “I know what you are, where you came from. We contract to the Air force; I think they’d be _fascinated_ to learn what I know about you.”

Michael can’t seem to make his mouth work. It’s his worst nightmare; _their_ worst nightmare, his and Max and Isobel’s. He can’t see past the thought of his siblings in chains, hooked up to machines, wires and needles and scientists...

“Why now?” Alex asks. “Why hold onto that information until now?” Jesse says nothing and Alex takes a few slow breaths behind him. “Leverage.”

“So you _do_ have a brain,” Jesse laughs humorlessly. “Yes, Alexander. I’ve kept this information to myself in case I needed to use it as leverage, like I do right now. I see that you understand perfectly.”

Michael turns his head enough to see Alex, whose expression goes from dawning realisation to gutted to resigned in a matter of seconds.

“Alex, what --”

“He’s going to want credit for Odyssey,” Alex explains, dispassionately. “I’ll probably have to tell the board that I stole everything, that he put the whole thing together. You and I will be fired. I’m sure there’ll be something _great_ for me after that.”

“We can discuss that later,” Jesse confirms. “Although you’re wrong about one thing; I’d like to keep Guerin around. Having you separated and under my control should encourage good behaviour, don’t you think?”

Something flares in Alex’s eyes for a second but then it’s gone, and the resignation is back.

“Yes, dad,” he says, and Michael wants to barf.

“Alex, no.” He reaches up to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own. “You don’t have to do this. We can --”

“He knows about you, Michael.” Alex stares him down as he says it. His jaw is set in that way that means he’s made a decision and he won’t be swayed, not by soft pleas and certainly not by anything less than stone, cold logic. “I won’t risk you. Or --” he doesn’t say Max and Isobel’s names, but the implication is clear. Michael loves him completely in that moment, and hates him with equal intensity.

“Don’t be dramatic, Alexander.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Michael snarls, turning back to look at Jesse. “I’ll do whatever you want, just leave Alex alone.”

“And leave his rebellious nature to fester again?” Jesse snorts. “I think not. Now, let’s move this process along. It’s time to put the Odyssey files in my name, son.”

Alex scowls at him. “Are you going to point that gun at me while I do it?”

“Of course not.” The aim straightens a little and Michael takes an involuntary breath in. “I’m going to point it at him. And if you do something stupid, I’ll shoot him.”

“Fuck,” Alex says quietly, then moves to sit behind his monitors. The room is silent except for the clacking of his fingers on the keyboard and the occasional click of a mouse.

“Keep me apprised, Alexander.”

Alex turns one of his monitors around, revealing a screen with two windows open. Michael only recognises one of them as a company program, used for logging changes and updates on projects. Alex seems to be erasing some information and adding something different.

“I’m updating the project files to confirm that you were the head of the project the whole time,” he explains to his father.

But Michael has seen Alex work, and that’s something he could do with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. That kind of thing wouldn’t require both hands and the level of focus he’s giving the centre monitor right now. Michael thinks on his feet.

“You really think you’ll get away with this?” he asks Jesse, like they’re in a prime-time movie and the villain’s about to make a speech about how he _is_ going to get away with it. “Other people worked on this thing, not just me and Alex.”

“You mean Miss Ortecho?” Jesse asks, bored. “Yes, I know all about her. I’ll have measures in place to maintain her silence as well.”

Michael growls and turns. Alex’s eyes meet his gaze above the monitor. He has that expression on; a cross between thoughtful and determined. It’s the one he gets when he’s forming a plan, or he’s already formed one and about to enact it. It’s an expression that worried Michael at first but now it fills his chest with warmth, his mind with calm and peace. It makes him feel safe. He knows that he and Alex are on the same page.

No one is going to hurt Liz. Especially not Jesse Manes.

The keyboard sounds stop and a voice chimes from Alex’s computer.

“SYSTEM ACTIVATED.”

Jesse’s gaze snaps to Alex. “What did you do?”

Alex just smiles, calm and sure. “Don’t you want to see what your new project can do?”

“SCANNING ROOM. BIOLOGICAL SIGNATURES RECOGNISED: ALEX MANES, MICHAEL GUERIN. HOSTILE BIOLOGICAL SIGNATURE DETECTED: JESSE MANES. PLEASE REMOVE YOURSELF FROM THE ROOM OR PREPARE TO FACE SECURITY MEASURES.”

Jesse snarls and the gun moves from Michael to Alex. Michael takes a half-step forward, then the gun is trained on him again. Good. Fine. He can deal with that.

“Shut it down,” Jesse orders.

“No can do, pops,” Alex says in a near sing-song voice. “The system’s designed to detect when its people feel threatened. _I_ feel threatened.” He turns to Michael, expression all innocence. “Do _you_ feel threatened?”

“Enormously,” Michael replies in a grumble.

“JESSE MANES. YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY.”

“You stupid little _fa-_.”

Jesse fires before Michael can do anything. The sound of the gunshot hits him in the chest and for a second he thinks, ridiculously, that _he’s_ been shot. There’s no pain though. He extends his hand on instinct and Jesse goes flying backwards. At the same time, something sparks from Alex’s desk and hits the man in the chest. Then, his head hits the wall with a _thud_ , knocking him unconscious.

Michael looks back at Alex, a joke at the tip of his tongue, when he sees the red blossoming against his white shirt. Alex is looking down at it in surprise, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, like he can’t quite believe it.

“ _Ow_ ,” he says, and slumps forward against his desk.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit u guys, i can't believe it's done?? this is the longest/most coherent fic i've ever written. and it all started with a silly ficlet response to a thirst post on tumblr :D
> 
> i just wanna say a HUGE thanks to everyone. seriously. if you read, commented, left kudos, shared this story on tumblr, ANYTHING. y'all honestly kept the motivation wheel spinning at times. i'm so grateful to you and i really hope you've enjoyed it! come and talk to me about roswell on tubmlr @[queersirius](http://queersirius.tumblr.com)
> 
> i have a few things that i might pop into an epilogue at some point but for now; enjoy a nice happy ending!!!

Michael’s at his side in a second, jacket off and bunched up so he can hold it against Alex’s shoulder.

“You with me, darlin’?” he asks, trying for reassuring but probably coming off as frantic.

“He tried to shoot me,” Alex says, appalled.

“Babe, I don’t know if you noticed,” Michael grits out. “But he  _ did  _ shoot you.”

“He tried to shoot me  _ in the head _ ,” Alex corrects himself. “I stood up. That’s why it got my shoulder instead.  _ Fuck _ . I’ve never been shot before.”

“How bad is the pain?”

“Actually, my arm is kind of numb?” There’s a questioning lilt to his words. “That’s probably bad --  _ ow _ !” He frowns at Michael, who has pressed his jacket harder against Alex’s shoulder.

“ _ Focus _ , Alex,” he says, trying to keep Alex both awake and alert. “When did you install the program in your office?”

“The second you signed off on the hardware.”

Michael says something unsavoury. “That was stupid. We hadn’t tested it yet. The taser shot needed to be re-calibrated. You could have  _ killed  _ him.”

“Oh  _ no _ ,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. “What a shame that would have been.”

“I know you don’t mean that. You don’t want to kill people.”

Alex grabs his shirt, meets his gaze with firm resolve. “He pointed a gun at you, Michael. He’s lucky I didn’t have time to ramp up the taser charge to full.” Even with that anger, there’s something gentle in the way he looks at Michael as he says it, soft even in the face of another of his father’s brutalities. “Besides, he knows about you. We can’t --” he licks his lips, eyes going glassy for just a moment, before he pulls himself back into focus. “We can’t let him live.”

Michael shakes his head, digging around in his pocket for his phone. “We can. We just have to --” he fumbles as he hits the first number on his speed dial, then holds the phone up to his ear.

“Michael?”

He breathes a sigh of relief at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Iz,” he says, and Alex shifts beneath him with interest. “Look, something’s happened. I’m fine, but I need you to walk me through influencing someone’s mind. I know I haven’t practiced it like,  _ at all _ , but this is kind of a time sensitive situation so if you could hold onto the lecture until later, I’d really appreciate it.”

She waits for him to get all the words out in a rush of air and then says: “Okay. But we  _ are  _ talking about this later.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He keeps one hand pressed to the jacket on Alex’s shoulder, maintaining the pressure with that instead of his powers. Then he turns his body enough to be able to face Jesse Manes, slumped against the far wall.

“Take a deep breath,” Isobel instructs. “And try to remember what’s going to bring you back, once you’re in there.”

That’s easy. The man in front of him, beneath him.  _ Alex _ .

“Now step out of your mind,” Isobel continues. If she’s worried about what’s happening, she’s doing a damn good job of hiding it. “Reach for theirs.  _ Don’t _ shove yourself inside. It’ll feel like an intrusion. Walk in slow. In steps.”

They used to practice this, after they’d discovered that they all had access to powers like this, but they’d all remained the best at what they’d originally thought to be their only powers. Michael was still best with the telekinesis, Isobel could infiltrate the minds of Generals if she wanted to, and Max was like a lightning rod that had become sentient and fallen in love with Liz. It didn’t mean they couldn’t all access the same powers to  _ some  _ degree though.

Michael tries. He prods at the edges of Jesse’s subconscious mind, trying to find a way in that doesn’t require brute force, but the man’s psyche is like a fortress. 

“Iz,” he grits out. “It’s like he’s got walls up. He’s trained for interrogation or something.”

“Jesus, Michael. Who are you trying to --” she swears on the other end of the line. “Jesse Manes. I thought you said this wasn’t going to involve any alien stuff --”

“Lecture  _ later _ , Iz,” he reminds her. “Right now I need you to tell me what the fuck to do.”

“Right.” Isobel takes another deep breathe. He’s going to owe her so many beers after this. Maybe he’ll offer to remodel her bathroom or build her a porch. “I’m assuming you don’t have time to work away at him.” He makes a noise of agreement. “Fine. You need to blow the walls up.”

“But I thought you said--”

“Forget that,” she snaps. “And listen. You need to bring the walls  _ down _ . Don’t barge through them. Find their foundation, rip that away, and let them fall. Remember that you’re in  _ his  _ mind. You’re in control.”

“Okay.” Michael inhales, exhales. Then he pushes. It’s not hard to find Manes’ weakness once he knows what he’s looking for. The man is evil, meticulous, and willing to do anything to achieve his goal. He truly believes that he’s in the right about all things; that he deserves to be in charge of the company, that everything he’s done to maintain that power is just, that Michael is evil and his kind are here to invade the Earth, even the things that he’s done to Alex. That one’s the hardest to swallow and it makes him want to leave Jesse with a quivering, incoherent mind, incapable of forming basic thoughts, let alone the kind that he’s thought in regards to Alex. He knows that he can’t do that though; it would only come back on him or god forbid, Alex.

Instead, he finds the combining thread of the man’s fanaticism and tugs at it, like he’s pulling bricks away from the bottom of a wall. Jesse’s barriers start to come down and just like that, Michael’s inside his mind.

“What is this?” Jesse, or a representation of him, asks.

Michael looks around at his mindscape, dark and stormy like some age-old cliche of a general at war, and shrugs, unimpressed. “Justice,” he replies. “I guess.”

Jesse says nothing, just stares at Michael like he’s waiting for instruction.  _ Fuck _ . He’s so pliant here. Michael knows that he could easily break this man and again he’s struck with the desire to leave him a drooling mess, to fuck up his mind beyond recognition and punish him for every scratch, every bruise, every broken bone that Alex has had to endure.

He feels Alex’s fingers circle his wrist in the outside world, anchoring him, and he focuses on the task at hand.

“First thing’s first,” he starts, staring the man down. “There are no aliens on Earth.”

*

It feels like he’s been in Jesse’s mind for hours. In reality, it’s only been ten minutes. Which is how long it takes for an ambulance to arrive and for EMTs, as well as police officers, to barge into Alex’s office. Michael has about five seconds to be grateful that they’d programmed Odyssey to contact 911 in response to gunshots, as well as to recognise emergency responders when they arrived, before Alex is being pulled from his arms and onto a stretcher. He blanches at the sight, now that he’s back in the outside world. Alex looks pale and clammy. Michael’s pressure on his shoulder has kept him from bleeding out but there’s still a lot of blood on his shirt.

Unthinking, Michael reaches out to take Alex’s hand.

“Sir,” one of the EMTs says. “We need to take him.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Michael says firmly.

“Fine,” she agrees. “But I need you to let go for the moment. You can follow us down to the van.”

Michael understands her logic but it still takes him a second to let go of Alex’s hand and step back. His legs wobble.

“Sir, are you alright?” The same EMT asks him, reaching out to steady him. “Are you injured?” She’s looking him over for wounds and Michael realises he must look like hell. He’s overused his powers in the past twenty minutes and there’s no way he can get his hands on some acetone without leaving Alex.

“I’m fine,” he tells her.

She gives him a look.

“I might barf,” he admits.

She disappears for a second and then reappears with Alex’s waste bin. “Here. Let’s go.”

He clutches the bin to his chest as he follows them, hovering close enough to the stretcher that he can keep his eyes on Alex, while trying to stay out of their way. He throws up twice on the way down. No one comments. He’s very grateful.

They pack Alex into the back of the ambulance and Michael slides onto the seat next to the EMT, who is currently quizzing to keep him awake.

“What’s your name, kid?” she asks.

“Alexander Manes.” He hisses when she presses some gauze down onto his shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander,” she responds without pause. “I’m Emma. Who’s your friend?”

“Michael,” he answers. He reaches out for his hand and Michael obliges, lacing their fingers together. “I love him.”

“Is that so?” Emma looks over at Michael with a conspiratorial grin. 

Michael might have responded with a joke but he’s too busy staring open-mouthed at Alex. He leans down and presses a feverish kiss to Alex’s knuckles, the bin and Emma and the ambulance forgotten. It’s just the blood loss, the pain, and the beginning effects of the painkillers they’re starting to give him, but he can’t believe Alex has used the L word first.

He tucks the memory into a safe place in his mind and lets out a deep breath, returning his focus to Alex on the stretcher and Emma beside him, chatting with Alex to keep him alert.

Later. There’ll be time for that later.

*

He sits in the waiting room while Alex is in surgery. He wishes desperately that he had a bottle of acetone, or Isobel, or Liz, or Max. They’re a world away though, so he goes and buys a bottle of nail polish from the hospital store and downs it in the bathroom, before returning to his seat in the waiting room. He calls Iz to update her, then he calls Liz to tell her what's happened.

He's still on the phone with her, both of them talking nonsense and science in soothing tones, just keeping one another calm and busy, when the surgeon comes to find him.

"He's going to be fine," the surgeon explains. "We got the bullet out without any major complications. His shoulder is going to need some physical therapy, but he should make a full recovery."

Michael sags against the weight of the day's events and Liz makes a sound of pained relief on the other end of the phone. He barely hears her saying goodbye and hanging up because he's trying not to burst into tears in the middle of the waiting room.

The surgeon puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'd like to keep him for observation for another few hours. Go home and get a change of clothes, son. Then we'll put him in a room and you can see him."

Michael wants to protest, to say he's not going anywhere, but the surgeon's already disappearing back behind the ER doors. He looks down at himself to assess and blanches. There's blood on his shirt and he smells like sweat and puke. He doesn't want to see Alex with Alex's blood on him.

He goes home and showers, packs up some spare clothes for the both of them and heads back. As promised, they have Alex in a room all to himself, thanks to daddy's money, and Michael is let in without argument.

Only, he can't get past the door.

Alex is lying in the hospital bed, eyes closed and breathing slowly. There aren't as many tubes or cords as Michael had feared, just the few that are monitoring his vitals and being used to administer his drugs. He has a blanket covering most of him but Michael can see the edges of the bandage on his shoulder, peeking out from beneath the white cotton. He's less pale now but he still looks wrecked,  _ vulnerable _ . He looks like he was shot a few hours ago.

Michael sucks in a harsh breath and stumbles through the door, dropping the bag of clothes next to the chair that he then drops himself into. He reaches out to take Alex's hand, lying next to his side, and presses long, heavy kisses all over his palm. Then he grips the hand with both of his own and leans forward, closing his eyes. He's surprised when he feels the water on his cheeks, the tears caught in his lashes. He hadn't realised he was crying but now that he is, he can't seem to stop. All he can think about is the blood seeping through Alex's shirt, the sound of the gun shot, the way Alex had whimpered in pain in the ambulance, how Alex might have died without knowing how much Michael loves him.

He cries himself to sleep like that, bent over the side of the bed and clasping Alex's hand in his own 

*

"Michael?"

Michael rears back so quickly that he gives himself whiplash.

“Ow, fuck,” he says, reaching back to support his neck until the sharp pain stops. Then his sleep-addled mind focuses on Alex, awake and staring at him. He leans forward again and smiles in the most reassuring way he can manage. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Me?” Alex asks, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m fantastic. You look like you’re the one that got shot with a 9mm.”

“That’s not fair,” Michael protests, running a hand through his hair which is, admittedly, a mess. “I  _ showered _ . You’re right about you though.” He leans over further to press a slow, chaste kiss to Alex’s lips. “You look great.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He presses their foreheads together, noses sliding against one another, as he breathes the words. “ _ Hot _ .”

Alex laughs, then he groans. Michael pulls back and drops back into his chair. He reaches out for Alex’s hand though, and Alex grips his hand weakly in return.

“Really, Michael,” he pushes softly. “Are you okay?”

Michael eyes him incredulously again. “You do actually remember that  _ you’re  _ the one that got shot, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

Alex rolls his eyes and yeah, he must already be feeling better. “Yes, and I’ve been told that I’ll make a full recovery. You, on the other hand...” he grimaces as he shifts a little to face Michael better. “That was -- a lot.”

He doesn’t deny it. There’s no point. He’s still exhausted from using his powers yesterday, and that’s just the alien stuff. He’s not even sure about beginning to process the human element of it all; the fact that he could have lost Alex, that Jesse Manes is for all intents and purposes defeated, that Odyssey works and that Alex could be running the company in a few weeks. Alex is right: it’s a lot.

“I’ll be okay,” Michael settles on, because it’s the truth. “Now that I know you’re going to be okay.”

Alex smiles at him, squeezing his hand, and Michael nearly forgets that there’s an outside world at all. At least until Alex asks:

“Will you tell me what you did to my father?”

Michael shrugs one shoulder. “Not much to tell. He doesn’t believe in aliens anymore, and he’s decided to accept the board’s recommendation for his resignation with poise and grace.” Alex snorts. “What happens now is up to the system. Hopefully he’ll go away for a long time, given what he’s done to you. I may have suggested he be as forthright as possible about all that.”

“That sounds very clear cut,” Alex says carefully, pursing his lips. Michael braces himself for whatever he’s working up to. “So why did you look like you were tearing yourself apart while you were doing it?”

Michael leans forward and presses his forehead to Alex’s arm, exhaling a shaky breath. “It was -- hard. Using the other powers, stuff that’s not the telekinesis, always takes more out of me. And your dad’s mind was…” he whistles. “Like a fortress. It took a lot of energy to get through but once I was in there; all it is is suggestion. I made him  _ want  _ to do the stuff I was saying.”

“And?” Alex prompts him, and he really should be surprised by how well Alex knows him at this point.

“And I,” he swallows, breathes shakily again. “I saw him. What he is. What he’s done.”

Alex’s breath hitches at the words but the pressure around Michael’s hand doesn’t change, and he doesn’t look away, just pulls their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of Michael’s hand. He makes a noise of encouragement which makes Michael feel brave.

“I wanted to kill him, Alex. No, I -- I wanted to do worse than that. I wanted to tear his mind apart. I was in there and he was vulnerable; I knew I could do it. All I had to do was pull at a couple of threads and he would’ve been an incoherent, babbling mess for the rest of his miserable life. He wouldn’t be able to scheme, or plot, or ever think about hurting you --” he pauses to suck air back into his lungs, which makes him realise that there’s tears gathering at the corners of his eyes again.

“ _ Michael _ .” Alex murmurs his name against his palm before pressing his lips to it. He gives Michael a moment, bless him, before gently prompting him again to continue. “But?”

Michael shakes his head, curls bouncing with the movement. “It would’ve been bad, probably for you. They would have thought it happened because of Odyssey. And I wanted to  _ protect you _ ."

"You did," Alex assures him. “Baby, you did.” He lets go of Michael's hand to slip his fingers into Michael's hair, stroking through the curls. Michael keens at the sensation, or maybe that's a reaction to  _ baby _ . Maybe it's both.

He blames Alex's ability to render him stupid with the fingers at his scalp for the way his mouth falls open and he breathes out: "I love you."

The fingers at his scalp pause for a second, then resume their gentle drag through his curls. Michael waits but it's hard to get stressed about it when the pads of Alex's fingers are working in slow circles to keep him calm.

Finally, Alex murmurs. "I wanted to say it first."

Michael's shoulders tense and Alex sucks in a breath.

"Oh no," he groans. "What happened?"

"To be fair," Michael tells him. "You didn't say it to me. You told Emma."

"Emma?"

"The EMT."

"Oh." His face goes pink, which is more of a relief than anything else. "What did I say?"

"Told her you love me," Michael explains, ducking his chin with a smile. "She was amused."

"Hm."

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Michael's almost ready to fall asleep again when Alex says:

"I do, you know."

"Mm?" Michael hums from where he's resting his head on the edge of the bed.

"I love you."

He looks up quickly, catching Alex's gaze just as he goes to look away. Michael leans up and forward, pressing their mouths together, only this time he lingers. He runs his tongue along Alex's bottom lip, pressing forward when Alex's lips part on a gasp. He kisses Alex slow, open-mouthed and just barely on the innocent side of filthy. Alex's fingers tighten in his curls. His own hand presses into Alex's hip, just enough to be felt.

When Michael pulls away, they're both more than a little breathless. Alex's pupils are blown wide and his chest is rising with each shallow inhale.

"This is probably a bad time," he says.

Michael nods his agreement at the same time that he presses his face to the side of Alex's neck and drops a kiss to his collarbone, peeking out from below the hospital gown.

"Definitely a bad time," he murmurs.

“Mr Manes, you’re awake.”

Michael falls back into the seat with a grumble, turning to see who the intruder is. It’s the surgeon from last night, dressed now in a white coat instead of his scrubs and carrying what appears to be Alex’s chart. He walks up to the side of the bed, looking Alex up and down and then reading something on the chart.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” is Alex’s deadpan reply. “When can I go home?”

“A couple of days,” the doctor replies, which makes Alex blanch. “I know. No one likes to be here, but I want to keep an eye on that wound. Without complications, you’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Alex leans back against the bed. “There’s so much to do.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael assures him.

“I also have a few officers wanting to speak to you,” the doctor continues, flipping through the chart in his hands and then stopping to look directly at Alex. “They were willing to wait until I deemed you conscious enough, but they’re insistent. Can I tell them you’re ready?”

Alex looks to Michael, who nods his head and tries to look as supportive as possible.

“Yes,” Alex says. “Send them in.”

*

The cops have a lot of questions. There’s a lot to go through. Jesse’s role in the situation is perhaps the easiest thing to explain, and the look on the officers’ faces say that there are longer conversations to have at a later time about the man’s history, but after that everything becomes a little more complicated. Alex details his plan with Odyssey and makes it sound as though Jesse’s subsequent embarrassment and removal had been a surprise, not the ultimate goal. He describes how he’d been testing Odyssey in his office and had never actually expected to need to use it, how that was the reason that the shock to Jesse’s system had shaken him so much, and why the recording system had failed to capture anything but snapshots of audio.

Michael considers himself a good liar. He’s been pretending to be human for over two thirds of his life, after all. But sitting there and watching Alex tell his version of the story with a straight face and unwavering determination, he thinks maybe there’s still a few things that he could learn.

The officers leave eventually, after making it clear that there will probably be more questions for the both of them in the future. When they’re finally gone, Michael lets out a breath and collapses back into his chair, running a hand over his face.

“It’s a lot, huh?” Alex asks him. When Michael looks over at him, there’s worry on his face.

“It is,” he agrees. It’s been a hell of a twenty four hours. Fuck, it’s been a hell of a couple of months. “Worth it though.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Alex’s answering smile is soft and pleased and Michael would conquer planets to see that smile every day.

*

They let Alex go a day or two early, which is great because Michael can tell he’s going crazy cooped up in the hospital. He may also be driving the hospital staff just as mad, but all either of them care about is getting to sleep in a real bed. Michael is taking time off of work to deal with the “trauma” of the situation but all he really plans on doing is taking care of his boyfriend, no matter how stubborn said boyfriend is. They drop by Alex’s place so that he can get some new clothes and Michael makes them coffee, marvelling at how big the kitchen is. He’s only stayed here a handful of times, when they’ve been too drunk or too tired to make it to his apartment, since Alex’s is closer to the office and the bars that they frequent.

It’s not all that much bigger than Michael’s apartment, but there’s just something about New York loft that screams  _ money _ . The large window in the living room/kitchen area looks out on the cityscape from the fifth floor and the morning sun is casting sunbeams throughout the room. The amount of furniture is minimal to the point of functional, and there are few scattered  _ personal  _ objects. Michael thinks fondly of Alex’s books on his coffee table, or his favourite bean bag next to the couch, his clothes in Michael’s cupboard, his favourite cereal in the pantry.

When Alex comes out of the bedroom with his bag and settles it on the stool at the kitchen bench, Michael steps over and kisses him before he can say anything.

“Move in with me?” he asks, and wonders when things became this easy.

He waits for Alex to give him that look that means he’s being stupid, that he’s missed something that’s already a reality and Alex has had time to process and accept. Instead, Alex blinks at him and then smiles, slow and pleased.

“That’s moving awfully fast, don’t you think?”

Michael scoffs and steps into Alex’s space, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re supposed to say; most of my clothes are at your apartment, Michael. I never sleep in my loft, Michael. I practically live with you already, Michael.”

Alex doesn’t rise to the bait but looks around the loft instead. “It  _ is  _ kind of ridiculous to keep paying rent on this place when I’m never here.”

“Such a romantic,” Michael rolls his eyes, then leans back in for another kiss. When he’s satisfied (that is, when Alex starts making those  _ noises _ and pushing against him), Michael picks up the bag and walks towards the door.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

*

The news about the company and Jesse’s fate comes two days later. The man himself is being charged with a mind-blowing amount of assault charges. They’ll have to testify against him eventually, and they’re going to ask Alex to recount some of the more horrific instances of his childhood, but Alex is determined that it will all be worth it to watch his father go away for a long time.

Alex is on medical leave, but Michael has to go back to work eventually. With Odyssey pronounced a resounding success, and no one there to give him more exciting projects to work on, he returns to his actual department, much to the delight of his manager. 

(“We’ve missed you, Guerin!”

“Yeah, feeling’s mutual, boss.”

“Great! There’s a stack of work on your desk.”

“Brilliant.”)

He comes home tired and irritated, but that all melts away when Alex walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He’s in a pair of sweats that hang off his hips and no shirt, which gives Michael’s eyes unfettered access to the juts of his hip bones, the trail of hair down his navel, the strong lines of his arms and chest. His arm is in a sling, pressed to his body. His hair is damp and plastered to his face, he’s got a few days of stubble on his chin, and Michael’s heart is threatening to beat out of his chest.

“Mmph!” is what Alex says, when Michael’s crosses the space and kisses him fervently. Michael swallows the sound with his mouth, sliding his hands up Alex’s neck to cup his face. 

“Michael,” he whimpers, free hand holding onto Michael’s hip like a lifeline.

Michael wrenches his lips away but stays close, breathing heavily. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, at the same time that Alex laments:

“The doctor said five weeks.”

That makes Michael groan, and he drops his face into the bare skin of Alex’s non-injured shoulder. “ _ Five weeks _ ?”

“Well,” Alex reasons. “Four as of today. I can’t strain my shoulder in any way or risk tearing everything open.”

“Should’ve just healed you,” Michael huffs. “And said the bullet missed you.”

Alex sighs and reaches up to card his fingers through Michael’s hair. The effect is instant and Michael melts against him. “Then you wouldn’t have had enough energy to mind warp my father. That was more important.”

Michael grumbles into the crook of his neck, then gently bites the skin there.

“What’s that?”

“I said,” he lifts his head enough to get the words out. “I’ll just have to do all the work then.”

He stands back and takes Alex’s hand, leading him towards the bed even as Alex makes a noise of confusion. 

It’s awkward at first, when Alex can’t do much more than slide his free hand into Michael’s hair as he swallows him down, hips rising off the bed of their own accord to match the disjointed rhythm. It’s almost strange, to rest himself on Alex’s calves and open himself up while Alex watches, licks his lips in anticipation. It’s not something that they’ve tried before, the watching and not touching, mostly because so far they’ve been so tangled up in one another that they can’t bare to not be touching for the length of time it takes to fumble out of a pair of pants. From the way that Alex’s breath hitches though, it’s something to remember for later.

And all the strangeness, all the effort is worth it to watch Alex’s face as he rides him; the wide eyes and blown pupils, his red and swollen lips parted as he pants up into the air. Michael’s true to his word; he does all the work and Alex’s shoulder remains unstrained. 

Afterwards, when Michael has cleaned them both up and they’re lying with their legs tangled and Michael’s arm thrown across Alex’s middle, Alex gets enough breath back to say:

“If that’s what we have to do for the next four weeks, I think we’ll manage.”

Michael grins and presses a kiss to his shoulder, then a few more  because he can. “You think that’s all I got? Just you wait, darlin’. We’ll give a new meaning to bed rest.”

Alex laughs with delight, and Michael places his cheek on his chest to feel the sound.

A little while later, Alex exhales softly and says: “I spoke with the board today.”

Michael raises his head so quickly to look at him, he nearly brains the both of them. “Sorry -- what, what did they say?”

“Well, obviously they don’t think dear old dad is fit to run the company anymore,” Alex explains, and he’s wringing the bed sheet in his hand. Michael takes the hand in his own and brings it to his lips, making a noise of encouragement.

“And they want me to take his place.”

Michael nods slowly. It’s what they had planned for, it’s what Alex wanted, right? He waits patiently as Alex processes.

“She did say that I was very young,” he adds, after a moment. “That’s their main worry. But there was talk of my competency and the company name, the family legacy it’s attached to.”

Michael understands that too. “You can make it your own,” he says. “Give it some time. People will start to think of it as yours and not your father’s.”

Alex hums in agreement, or just acknowledgement. Either way, he’s not worrying at his bottom lip anymore, and the long lines of his body have relaxed once again.

“There was talk of a promotion for you,” he says, sounding pleased and proud.

“Oh?” Michael hadn’t been expecting that. Helping Alex had been a reward in itself but he wasn’t going to say no to a bump up the ladder. “Does that come with better pay?”

“Mhm,” Alex replies. “And more responsibility.”

He huffs. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

“You deserve it,” Alex presses, and then  _ presses _ , rolling so that his whole front is plastered against Michael’s side. “I already told them yes."

Michael laughs. "Of course you did. Fine, but only because you're the boss." He leans over to kiss Alex, wet and dirty, then pulls back with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Alex looks put out.

“Shit," Michael says, with feeling. "That will make you my actual boss."

Alex frowns, which Michael absolutely does not want. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought about that --”

Michael quickly moves to rectify the situation. “Yep, can’t wait to be the gossip around the water cooler. It's fine. Actually, it’s kind of an upgrade, isn’t it?”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m not fucking the boss’ son anymore,” Michael grins, wide and filthy. “I’m fucking the boss.”

Alex rolls his eyes despairingly but Michael can tell that he’s already thinking about it.

“I suppose --” he starts carefully. “I  _ will _ be getting a new office.”

"True." Michael nods, not quite understanding yet but waiting patiently to do so.

"Well," Alex continues, untangling his hand from Michael's to drag his clever fingers down Michael's belly, through the hair there, towards his cock which is rapidly gaining interest. "That means a new desk, new chair, new couch, new coffee table…"

He trails off and bats his eyes innocently as his hand cups Michael's cock, squeezing once for good measure.

Michael chuckles. One of his hands finds its way to Alex's arse, squeezing gently and then travelling down further to grip his thigh, pulling Alex’s leg up and over his hip. Alex whines as their bodies line up.

“Alright,  _ boss _ ,” Michael drawls. “Put me to work.”


End file.
